This Morning

Midmorning, damp
with dream of farthest reach
(let go! let love!)
and alone
in your apartment,
I struggle to funnel
into anything
porous. Later,
standing over
your coffee maker,
your image is
behind my eyes,
sense of you
swimming through,
place without bottom.
Not my usual
careless self,
I lift the plastic filter
from its holder
and dump the grounds
for the first time in a while,
dumping grounds
with hardest thwacks,
my whole heart
grateful, absorbent.

--me