Tea, silver spoon: A verb machine. Body and vegetation extended. Tendrils, even. Twining there and there and there. But a hand picks it up, finally, makes it go. Finally is just rest, then we look back.


Tea, silver spoon: Crushed dried flowers, bits of dirt in another life. Silver slanting across heat. She came over crying, or maybe I should say, “came over in tears”, or almost. Came up the stairs calling hello, sat on the floor drinking tea.