At New Year We Ran Out of Coffee

In our kitchen I see
the beige mug you gave me
on one of my birthdays
one of the many other things you gave me
on that birthday

Now an arresting coffee stain
marks a spot on the rim
left from the handle

This is the mark of my lips
of many kisses on many afternoons
cold afternoons in need of warmth
difficult afternoons in need of honesty
unforgettable afternoons in want of presence

All of them
our afternoons

But this afternoon
the gaping void of the mug
stares at me as if
with earnest eyes inviting
Its gaze stains me

There will be afternoons like this
I caught myself saying
as I held the mug tightly
pouring water on it

I light the stove
like all the afternoons before
and our mug waits still
on the countertop