In which I replace myself with coffee
after Nico Wilkinson
When my partner
greets the morning with coffee
he does so with gentle precision.
He grips with fingertips,
never palms,
does not want to overwhelm
what is already warmed for him.
My partner worships
at the altar of the espresso machine
having tuned it so carefully
to fit his needs.
He knows exactly
the impact caffeine will have
he’s made sure of it.
But suddenly, he’s weaning off coffee,
says it is making him jittery,
unable to think straight.
I wonder if he thinks about
how many other people
are drinking coffee, his coffee.
Cannot cleanse it from his mind
despite the bag locked in the cabinet
meant only for our own tastebuds.
My partner, he is done with coffee.
Will not meditate through
the practice of making anymore.
He is done participating
in the morning give and take
as we decide who has the energy to give.
Done with acts of service.
He is left unbothered
that my love for coffee remains.
How I started to cherish it again
in mugs I pulled from his cabinets,
rather, in the pieces
I pulled from his view.
My partner does not want coffee anymore
but I will love it hard enough, now
it will need nothing else.
My mother and I had a coffee routine for 4 years and it was so important in my life. Now my best friend and I have a coffee routine that is so completely different from anything I imagined – not only for us but at all. My honey and I, we love coffee but there is no routine for him and I’ve never been able to understand that. I even work as a barista – coffee is always in my poems. But this was such a great piece and I love that I got to go through all the motions with both of you.