I was informed today that my poem, The Meaning of C8-H10-N4-O2 (Coffee), won third place in the Portia Steele Poetry Competition.

The Meaning of C8-H10-N4-O2 (Coffee)

we lived over a diner on Third
the smell of coffee in blue and white cups
would wind up the narrow stairs
and settle in between us
Meaning, we had nothing to say.

on long cold days of sitting around the house
sweater wrapped and nose-numbed
he would always say, a good cup of coffee
is what we need right now.
Meaning, i should get up and get him one.

spooning out the dark specks
into a red cup which never looked clean
one sugar and a splash of milk, a paper napkin
given to him one-handed.
Meaning, I didn’t care if it was good or not.

i drank tea, and was fierce about it
deriding the lousy cups made here, dishwater thin
hot water over sad limp bags
miserable with damp and longing.
Meaning, i pushed myself away from him.

the night i finally threw the cup
smack against the wall; red shards like blood
scattered around the room,
brown liquid patterns like escape hatches.
Meaning, at last i’d had enough of it.

years on, now i drink foam-rich latte
and sometimes even cappuchinos
in little cafes, laptop open
writing with dry kindness and care.
Finally, i found a meaning for it all.

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My cousin, Gail, didn't understand this poem at all, because, she said, Coffee makes her happy! I promise to write her a happy coffee poem one of these days.

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