Espresso Enchantment

Oy vey - our coffee machine died today; and no, 

wasn’t from misuse, cataclysmic circumstances, 

or ungracious worship: we knew we’re blessed - 

it featured centre of our existence, and th’ test’s 

now how to survive in the absence of our Deity - 

Meantime, pensively we drink tea, sipping slow, 

ruminating on the various ways we’ll have to try 

for survival; th’ grinder still goes & is a bonus to 

Plan A - a coffee percolator, three actually altho 

all carefully ‘stowed’ somewhere in the garage 

Then there’s the indulgence of pre-mix sachets; 

Nescafe mocha & hazelnut latte - woah, a good 

idea tho’ fresh-ground coffee has its own ability 

t’ enslave every sense of opulence to its view: if 

we’re to stay with sanity - then there’s the key 

Tomorrow will be a penance we’ve heard others 

describe as th’ most absurd beginning of sense 

returned, with outstanding debts yet to be paid; 

by then the arguments of repair or replacement 

have aired while we savour our percolated grief 

If there’s a thief in th’ woodwork it might relieve 

just whose onus has reared into a half-life taken 

for granted; surely, tho, we’re not as completely 

enslaved as we believe because our Espressos 

deceived us with this fey, pseudo enchantment 

© 17 March 2018, I. D. Carswell