Making instant coffee in the morning with my infant daughter
By Silas Rowley
'Tis a ritual
fraught with peril:
​
I wrap the sun around me,
become a morning
to meet you in the predawn,
​
halo of sleep
mirror of mine like
your stinky bum,
hot temper, care
​
for temperate details.
​
We locate a mug-
with much cross
countertop call
& response -
-is this a spoon?
-fock!
-is this a spoon?
-nye!
​
Granules of ease
(sacrifice, O
bean & grind
instancy
scatters, unsurrept
raw
-but how we mislead-
<& are misled in turn>
sugar to new
mouth. Now
- the fresh boil of peril:
​
one day I will mess up
this dance of one step
you will be taught that life
can scald
​
or
​
worse less on well waste late, scar
harder; such
​
the orderless order:
​
we decant
through days
with vague
intent, fraught
with peril
- is this
a spoon?
- shall I
change
my ways?
-probably
I should.
Silas Rowley is currently working as a builder.