By Spencer Keene
Song of the Coffee Pot
The fluorescent bulbs flick on
as you stumble into the kitchen,
your eyes swollen with sleep.
From my perch atop the counter
I watch your clumsy movements,
anticipate the immanent warmth.
The cupboard creaks and reveals
its stores to you; boxes, tins, cans
and a collection of odds and ends.
You palm the big blue cannister,
lift the lid and inhale deeply—
an earthy aroma whispers quietly.
Heaping spoonfuls of dry grounds
litter the papery funnel in shards,
deposited into the stately machine.
A fountain of water laps above me,
gurgles to life with a switch flick—
the first drop tickles my insides.
Soon I’m filling up with tarry brew,
brimming with seductive fragrance
—you stare longingly at my body.
The machine chirps its completion,
your fleshy hands caress and tip me
as I spill into your favourite mug.
Old Apartments
Walls that ache for my
forgiveness; kernels of
mercy to spare them the
hissing kiss of steel.
Their papery wails echo
through musty hallways,
reach webbed corners in
dimly forbidding attics,
slat-arms of knotty wood
waving pleading gestures.
Whistling hammer tunes
drown the begging spirits
in morbid cacophonies —
the creak of floorboards
bleeds into soft weeping.
Spencer Keene is a writer from Vancouver, British Columbia. He works as a content developer for a public legal education organization and loves to write poetry and short fiction in his spare time. His work has appeared in SAD Magazine and will be featured in Iron Faerie Publishing’s forthcoming Hallowed anthology.
Academy of the Heart And Mind 