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Winner,
Sentinel Poetry Competition 2009;
Published
in Champion Poems, 2009, ISSN 2042-5228
Coffee
Lip to neck and arse
by thigh,
we
almost choked on each other,
our
breath ferocious in a war
to
stay human.
I
was starving for home.
The
smells stayed immobile
in
groaning air. Human debris
and
the reek of coffee.
We
murmured in darkness,
creaked
with the timbers,
craved
a hard breeze.
When
they let us on deck
we
filled it like flies
at
the eye of a horse.
Tongues
swollen,
eyes
shrunk,
the
waves were tempting.
After
docking,
we
were shoved, bossed,
dressed
up, starched.
Groomed
for parlours,
we
stood in shadowed rooms,
kept
tight in cuffs and collars.
I
waited near tables,
poured
coffee
into
pale cups and thought
of
skin and coins.
I
served it with silver spoons to
giggling
ladies
with
small and pretty eyes.
I
saw the floor,
remembered
my fine brother,
his
bold face. His big hands.
I
thought of winds twitching at the shore,
the
heat in the plantation,
the
sun on bare leaves.
The
distance between
covered
truth and blinding sorrow.
Who
fetches coffee
and
who drinks it.
Miles Cain
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