*Written in Gasworks Park in Seattle. The rule was that the phrase “coffee beans spilling noisily” had to be someplace in the poem.
She is tired from sitting
Under the hot morning sun
Drained, like tea leaves in lukewarm water
She expected to fall apart when the letter came
To scream or get angry, or at least cry.
But she new.
Somewhere in her mind she heard the click of the teletype
And her patriot son was gone.
And she can hardly squeeze out the tears.
Hard, they fall, one by one
From raw, unwiped cheeks,
Like coffee beans spilling,
Noisily, into the afgan in her lap.