the ritual

I turn on the kettle 

its mechanical hum 

too eager to turn on 

Slow, methodical you 

took out your tea set 

& began your ritual
 

little bubbles at the bottom 

getting dragged up the sides 

& exploding onto the surface 

never let the water boil 

delicate & fermented 

black tea leaves burn
 

fireworks in my electric kettle

roaring as I pour the liquid 

into my chip-lipped mug 

perfect kettle 

perfect teacup 

with a perfect lip
 

I rip open prepackaged tea, 

untwist the string from the bag

& dip it below the surface 

swirling black stained your drink

imbuing handcrafted flavor you love

steam rising to meet your face
 

I take a sip, frowning 

I place it on the counter 

with all intent to forget

you lifted the tea to your lips

its scent inviting 

you took a sip
 

I wrap cold hands around the mug

you will not drink my tea 

you are not here 

a smile decorated your face 

teacup warming your hands 

as you watched the snowfall 

I’ve done tea time all wrong

but wouldn’t you be proud 

I’ve done it at all 

after all, I never liked tea 

but it reminds me of you 

so I lift the tea to my lips & I drink