Posted in Fiction & Poetry




The espresso lid creaks

A crypt keeper’s lair

A tarnished 6-cup

Broken handle from unnatural strength


Or someone had the flame too high

It burned off


My kept secret what I bear

Cold water I pour

To one single bolt

Grandma said iced makes the best


Then the basket where it’s captive

Is filled to the rim with tamper tap-tap


Boiling bubbles will rise

After it’s dropped in

Drowning it will survive

Turn the top that it’s tight


A coffin creaks as opening begins

Disturbs sleep

Specifically mine

But it’s done, finally


Not the coffee yet

But preliminary process


As the fire kindles below

Reddened blaze it will grow

Unbearable to touch snap it low

Where’d the potholders go?


That’s what I get

Being organized overrated yet


I must feed to survive

Fresh ground grinds infuse the room

The blood is the life

Mine feeling better soon





I’m a self-published author of two books, a blogger, grandma, mom, auntie and friend... I’m also a TEFL instructor, have lived in a few other countries besides the US. I love walking, cooking, reading, traveling, teaching, learning, language, movies, vampires, mummies, zombies, other assorted creatures of the night, science fiction, romance, action, adventure, classics, Latin, Soave, Chianti, D’Abruzzo, Ouzo, Sambuca, Bulleit Bourbon, Plato, the ocean and tanning.

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