*

*

On a coffee wind my mother sighed

wreathed in the smoke of small fires

Tart orange was her voice

*

Peppermint and Chanel Number Five

A kiss of red lipstick rubbed off

Light comes in through bamboo shades

*

Danish modern table, ladderback chairs

the Sunday crossword falls to ash

Coffee wind swirls around her head

*

Beneath a blooming lemon tree

eucalyptus leaves shaped like dolphins

spin along the ground

*

The cremated genie hides in her bottle

Her eyes were never more hazel

than reflected in coffee at dawn