Poetry: ‘Coffee of the Day’

Photo Dana Hachwa

There is a stain of brown

on the floor, over there.

Look closely and see,

streaks of what made it out to be

anything but a stain of brown

on the floor, over there.


Not long before the stain, 

It was a cherry of desire.


He knew it contained

all that He aspired to be,

red and ripe and raving, pick me!


He ripped its skin,

coaxed out its core,

choked it with fire until it

cracked once, then once more.


Glistening with the colour of earth,

He let it breathe; for a moment.

Then with pressure and powerful grate

He ground it, crushed it, released

its breath from within and


drowned it. Drenched too, He

watched: with water it was whole

and clean. Touch, taste, scent and sound

pouring out; better than ever Bean.

And after toasting,

He would rest—


until by a reason unfair,

it fell in a stain,

                                                     over there.