Barista Wipes Hands on Apron

Barista knows grief takes its sugar

With small baptisms of steam and milk

Places a blessing on the counter without spilling

Affirms love is never sinful

—

With small baptisms of steam and milk

She watches hands tremble toward warmth

Affirms love is never sinful

Even as sorrow stains the tongue

—

She watches hands tremble toward warmth

A cup becomes a quiet confession

Even as sorrow stains the tongue

The body struggles to remember how to receive

—

A cup becomes a quiet confession

She steadies the pour like practiced prayer

The body struggles to remember how to receive

What the heart once feared to hold

—

She steadies the pour like practiced prayer

Places a blessing on the counter without spilling

What the heart once feared to hold

Barista knows grief takes its sugar.

**a pantoum-style poem

4-29-26