T

 

[T]

 

What’s the tea? We want to know everything, now

if only to say typical, truly?, tough luck, too much, it’s all talk.

The see-saw of so-and-so’s tribulations make small talk,

judge and jury behind our eyes guessing who, why, how.

Unremarkable news turns into topic of all remarks

storms in teacups, a torrent of half-truths and theories:

tantalising, well-timed, tomfoolery!, tragic, too too teary.

Glad it’s not us, tracking the tale from light into dark.

 

And which tea then’s it to be? A friendly brew,

a careful stir, apostle spoon, slow boat to China?

Or something stronger, sharp with wedge of bitter lemon,

unstrained, a well of well well well, and who knew? Who?

Or lacking entirely milk of human kindness? Finer

than rising steam, the stew of our little demons.