*

Honey clings to a spoon
becomes alive in the tea

The cup riding my hand
like a wave on a hot beach

My fingers have memories
of heat, and a pent ache

*

Note:

Like a mashup of Dali and Turner, seen through a cubist filter, the teacup sails on the waves. And all I did was go downstairs to get a mint tea with honey. It was hot and sweet and cut through the midnight.