Judith Nelson, Tribunal, 1974, 18X18
COFFEE ON A HOT DAY
All that grinding,
that filtering,
stupidity beckons.
This is not
what our blood desires.
Lips bleach,
intestines balk,
eyes dilate,
at the sight
of the steaming cup.
Who would stab
the man recovering
from a knife wound
or lift the blankets
from the feverish child.
The head’s to blame.
It needs to rouse, to waken.
Too late do we find
there’s a brain inside.
______________
John Grey