by Eleanor Goldfield

bitter coffee in a white mug


much like me,

from long days and jittery nights

creamer in an overly bright container,

contrasting my coffee and I –

balancing on the lip,

pouring into the abyss

clouds of lactose free

mimicking the out-of-favor milk maid,

with a swirl and a swoop,

the abyss turns a creamy caramel

mouth watering,

I think of all the trite phrases advertisers would spin:

be the creamer, bring light

unsure if it’s bitterness that brings these thoughts to mind –

or a sweet sarcastic creaminess —

so often mistaken for a black abyss

programmed by the capitalist class,

I stir my caramel addiction and dive right in