November 08, 2023a kiss on the brush and coffee cups too
Last night I brushed my teeth
scrubbing and hoping
the bloody lace might unveil,
through its dripping curtain,
an untouched snowy estate
Traces of my lipstick
hugged her neck
an autumn shade
for a night borrowed
from the depths of my mom’s
fraying purse
lips that soon
beamed back
Fresh eyes once observed the wine
caked into mom’s towering brush
three hundred and fifty degrees
too hot to touch
new shades baked as leaves turned
watch the sand slip through
for those days decreed
deliberately layered
in a stained glass
evolving to stand its ground
I would dig
and dig
and dig
longing to uncover
the roots of its shimmering elegance
Now I lined my brush
snug next to hers
my orange smudge lined
a little lighter
a little lower
next to her rich
seasoned stain
Waiting to be crowned again tomorrow
as the morning coffee lid
waits for its glossed kiss
A drive home from school
where coffee cups danced
as she flew over road bumps
A stoplight’s hue
would only be seen on those lids
some tossed,
some forgotten,
some kept till the last drop lulled,
and others gifted with sips to share
it was those I loved most,
giddy at the thought
the rose
tone may transfer
to the garden of my skin.