I stare at the
coffee stained napkin,
a second hand spoon and a pen
resting on the brown liquid spatters
The news program hums
Shots, cries, fire, lies
The hairs on my arms
Stand at attention
I am always at attention
My stomach aches
With each word of hate
I let my pen trace the spatters
Left from the calm
Before the storm
The thunder strike
The hoods of white
I sit and wait
wait
wait
and wait
I want to make it better
But I stand in my way
My family stands in my way
So many men I have known
Stand in my way
I stare at the napkin
And a woman stares back
Begs me to fill her
With words
To make her become
everything
love music art
peace health justice
I stir my coffee
Gulp feverishly as I write
create laugh eat
play sing touch
I want to fight
for all of us
who have been hurt
smothered
chained
killed
by hate
More liquid spatters
I pause, tuck my hair
behind my ears and stare
at the wet
open
stain
I put hands on my belly
The ache an echo
The fear small again
I made my choice
The napkin now shredded
With a word-loving pen
Delicate, strong, determined
A new kind of attention
Found here
In coffee
These poems are part of the Cultivating Poetry Project, in which I write for those who need poems for many reasons in their lives, including those in parenthood, grief and loss, chronic pain and fatigue, and those in need of a change or healing.
All poems and images are the property of the poet, Sharon Frances.
Do not use in part or whole without permission.
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