Coffee quivers
like dirty dish water
in its ceramic container.
The sturdy handle is secured
with the black glue of use and years.
It has seen too many washes
and petrified heat waves
surge up its slippery sides.
Shadows disguise my cure for thirst,
with coffee grounds,
cream,
and sugar.
It waits patiently, solemnly
on the table,
along with the salt shakers.