I am like fine china
under the trembling lips of wilting ladies
I hear their heavy secrets as they raise me
to their open mouths
They leave kisses on my edges
staining me crimson
I fill up and over with their thirsts
their desert mouths.

Sugar-white and hand-polished
by the callous hands of ruddy maids
They trace the cracks that curve
along my surface like an eyelash
“Make a wish”
one says

But I am full of wishes.
Wishes and heartache and the rain
that traverse a lace tablecloth
fringed by smiling ladies
In the summertime their lips bead with sweat
and I taste their manic salt
Still and silent
while they whisper behind lace fans
that beat like butterfly wings.


2 thoughts on “Teacups

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s