Coffee - Hunter Bishop
Oh, brown brew with your swirling thoughts.
Tendrils of steam pull me inside, into the abyss of my thoughts: a world with no sugar, and not a drop of cream. The depths have been entered. A realm with blank paper highways and cookie cutter cars, driven by the devil himself. He flashes his teeth, black to match his fur. The option is to follow his trail, hoping he leaves a wisp of dust for me to swallow up. Day after day I wear a circular path in the ceramic sidewalks. Mouth dry, never enough, never enough. I take this path a hundred times before I find the lights, just where I knew they were. I adjust for the sudden swoop, and I am back. Nothing changed but the soreness of my feet. |
Hunter is in 11th grade at Houghton High School. The editors thought the imagery throughout this poem was used well and enjoyed the metaphors about the cup of coffee. Hunter also wrote the poems "Aging Population" and "West Coast Wishing."
*Picture provided by Pexels
*Picture provided by Pexels