Drink Poem by Susan Adams

I stare at my cup of lukewarm tea
cradle the bowl
as I would your head against me.
Loosed light on tremor rippled surface
your face reflects.

I bend to the rim
and suck you drop by lick by lick
into my mouth, closing my eyes
so I can’t see you disappear
as I trickle you into me like boiled sweet residues.
Your warmth leaches through in subtleties
like the many times I sucked the warm subtleties of you,
but the hand put up in protest
at my drawn out gulp
sticks in my throat and is turning me
inside out.

On your angry departure road where you don’t let me go
but trail me along behind to absorb the excess of you
the huffed heat and puffed hurt
a star burning out in flashing Morse code,
the pulsing flare of you that lit our way long into the eroded night
until your ignition imploded.
And there you left me on the scorched road of your indignity.

I need to lose the sense and injustice of you
devour your plausibility permanently
to swallow you in amputated parts
to be rid of you and the loss of you.

I replace the emptied cup where my parallel tears snow plough
down the curved inside and bury themselves
in the remnant debris of you

while your memory sets camp in every cell of me.