Coffe

By Kristie Patterson

The coffee scalds my hand,                                             

                                        my wrist,                                                           

                                                      my arm                                                                  

                                                            It hits the carpet with a wild vengeance

“Did that wake you up?” it seems to jeer – yes

                           Since I’m being watched, I bring my lips forth,

And it takes pleasure in numbing my tongue

Scorched

esophagus,

but

warm

inside me

As if intensity fades when hidden

I used to hate this drink, now I crave it

And the cup reads ‘caution’ as a mocking

As if I’m too stupid to know it burns

As if I haven’t done this to myself

My skin still drips and stickiness sets in

“Was that worth it?” It seems we’re of one mind -

I always verge epiphany at this.

                                                      But it’s gone now. It’s gone at least for now.

 ___________________________________                                                                                                             

Kristie Patterson is a 24-year-old Canadian writer. She is currently doing her Master's in Creative Writing at Cambridge University, England, where she specializes in poetry.