Content warning: Poem, Drink, Dead Ancestors
That’s Not Mourning
January 13, 2023
I like to hear my ancestors
rolling in their graves, shouting –
that’s not tea, that’s a tisane, that’s an infusion –
getting all het when I throw chicory and mint
two other tree barks, and cloves in my coffee
knowing if they roll hard enough, shout loud enough
I’ll get off my lazy well-spiced fainting couch
maybe just long enough to hunt them up
to bring them another couple cups
* * *
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