4 Cups of Coffee

Photo by Matt Hoffman on Unsplash

Four cups of coffee today.

She was here yesterday morning
and the one before that and
the one before that,
so I had got into the habit
of making a bigger pot in the morning
to get us both into the afternoon.

Yesterday
I took her to the airport –
and even though it was
almost twenty-four hours later,
and I went to bed alone,
and woke in that bed
with my limbs sprawled into
the empty corners as if
my body had spent the night
dreaming into the space
she used to be –
I made the same pot.

So my brain was aware
but my body was in the dark,
and yet, both parts in agreement
that there is no such thing
as too much coffee,
just as there is no such thing
as too much regret.

– New Orleans
19 May 2020

Mississipp

Another Plague Poem