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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Of Tea and Names

"Teatime" from Ella's Edge
The day she couldn't find her name
started out like any other day
She made the coffee
kissed the husband
sent the kids off to school
and then realized it was missing

At first she thought she had simply left it
with the car keys
but no

She searched under the newspaper
in her coat pockets
and sweater drawer
even in the trashcan
but it wasn't anywhere

She tried to remember the last time
she had seen it
It was some time between her wedding 
and the last time she had finished a cup of tea
while it was still warm

"If I were a name, where would I be?"
she said to herself
then searched the dryer 
and found three lost socks
but no name

She considered taking out an ad
but couldn't decide on an appropriate reward
for finding a name
or, for that matter, how she could be sure
she would recognize it as hers 
and didn't want to take in the wrong one

After some thought 
she decided she needed a new name
The old one probably didn't fit any way

She began her search for a name
right after she brewed a pot of tea
and finished an entire cup