all i know how to do
is make tea. in the mornings, when i first wake up and my eyes are still
crusted over with sleep, when you and i
have breakfast together
with fried eggs that you have to make because i
can’t quite get the yolks sunshine-y
and fried potatoes crisped just right in the pan, i know
you like ginger turmeric that
stains the mug orange if i don’t wash it out
fast enough. at least i can contribute
green tea with lots of sugar, when you’re
afraid and you leak salt into my t-shirt
and the pillows and the couch and i can’t
soothe you because i haven’t had enough
practice. i can’t rock you back to sleep but i can make
chamomile at night with a splash of
chocolate milk that will settle your mind
and your stomach, so you can rest while i watch you
with a wrinkle in between my eyebrows.
in the morning i wake up with my neck displaced and my eyes still
crusted over with sleep, to stumble to the kitchen where i can make myself
earl grey tea cut with oat milk to keep my teeth white. enough
caffeine (which you won’t drink) to jolt me awake for breakfast and eggs with
sunshine-y yolks and crispy potatoes and ginger turmeric tea
that stains the mug orange if i don’t wash it out fast enough.
Rachel Beavers lives in Los Angeles, CA with her partner and the meager far-off promise of future pets. She spends most of her time watching bad TV, weaving, or playing tennis. Rachel works at a writing school and often takes classes to further her craft.
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