Coffee?
Mailie Ngirmidol
Mailie is a poet from Pahoa who writes about nature, existence and everyday tasks. Her goal is to help raise awareness and appreciation through everyday experiences and objects.
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Coffee?
I drank a cup of coffee at the local shop.
It was creamy, sweetened with honey and sprinkled with ground chocolate,
I sat, and drank the warm soft fluid from the glass brim of the cup and in the background I hear music playing,
A woman wailing perfectly to the sound of steady bass, soft piano and the occasional xylophone key sneaking in.
The rattle of a symbol as she sings about the rocky side of a mountain.
And suddenly I’ve come to the last sip of my coffee,
A few grains of the chocolate are sucked into the quicksand of honey that has settled at the bottom of the cup while the rest dance playfully to the xylophone keys, bouncing to the bass and swirling about to the pitch of the woman’s voice.
I raise the glass to my lips without hesitation welcoming the last breath of coffee,
The luke-warm liquid is bitter at first, then a sickening sweet decadent smothering of the senses by this poisonous elixir.
The sound of the sad woman crying to the melancholy melody of the piano reaches my ears,
But her voice doesn’t sound like a voice, it more closely resembles the primal cry of some tortured creature.
Her fingers are the waves of the ocean crashing down on the battered shore of the piano keys.
Her voice pierces through the air as the morning sun pierces the sky with it’s relentless light.
Her voice, the sun traveling together across the naked hilly land. Reaching, racing as she wails the words from her sheet music.
But her words will never out run the speed and sudden omnipresence of the light, so she humbly takes her place as second best to the sun in this race across the land and finishes her song.
But with the turning and twisting in the tone of her voice she has somehow illuminated my spirit in the dark corner of the coffee shop where the light of the sun will never reach.
As I pull the cup away from my lips, they stick as if they wished for this ecstasy to never end. They wish to travel across the land with the woman’s voice and the light of the sun.
But sadly the weight of the cup has become that of an ancient boulder that I can no longer bear.
I look into the darkness of the corner and set my cup down only hearing sound.
Connections:Coming soon
Mailie's Poetry:
☆ Coffee?
☆ My Secret Life
☆ Windward & Leeward
