She makes a Cup of Tea

She makes a Cup of Tea

A Poem by Sel Whiteley

I watch her hands tremble

Like windswept, unknowable flowers

drifted too far from the soil bed.

 

She shakes away the excess crystals,

the tasteless, white nothing

cascades from the never-quite-silver spoon

into the stained mug. 


her sublime nails are glossed

beyond perfection by nailpolish, 

that diamond in the platinum ring

glints in the television's halflight

which shows the Gaelic League game.


I could find in the white satin

of their scars untold stories,

feel their heritage and history,

how small flower like hands

can be snapped, broken, forced

into unspeakable corners and crevices,

how the slower pulse

is testament to the cruelty of men


but I only watch sugar

falling like tears

or snowflakes on the last winter flowers.





© 2011 Sel Whiteley


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Reviews

You start with the trembling hands, make the sugar tasteless and then break the veneer of her stepford fingernails to reveal something quite haunting. Just excellent!!

Posted 13 Years Ago


To turn brewing tea into this makes me wonder what else I haven't seen in my blissful loving life.

Posted 13 Years Ago


Such a seemingly little story, but it's big as the night sky, big as the universe.

Posted 13 Years Ago


how you take us behind your eyes , listening to your heart as we watch a moment pour its story before us .



Posted 13 Years Ago


such a beautiful broken, honest, and far-seeing heart you have.
the language here is as reservedly aching and crying-out as the subject.

Posted 13 Years Ago


Again the empathy and kindness which I have come to associate with your work. Domestic abuse is a heinous thing and this poem is a powerful antidote for the same.

P.S. - Just a typo - I believe cruelty has been miss typed as creulty.

Posted 13 Years Ago


Sel, you are a step above...my superlative bank is overdrawn; i can only say your heart is large beyond measure

Posted 13 Years Ago


wonderful work, Sel, and this is so fine:
how small flower like hands

can be snapped, broken, forced

into unspeakable corners and crevices,

how the slower pulse


is testament to the creulty of men

Excellent!!!




Posted 13 Years Ago


You paint quite a picture here for us.. I love it.. :) x

Posted 13 Years Ago


1 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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698 Views
22 Reviews
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Shelved in 7 Libraries
Added on April 21, 2011
Last Updated on April 22, 2011

Author

Sel Whiteley
Sel Whiteley

Toulouse, France



About
Peace activist and development worker more..

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