John Thomas Clark 

 

 

My Morning Pick-Me-Up

 

We’re not sure if Gioacchino Rossini
preferred his caffeine like Honore Balzac,
fifty cups of the finest grind, all black,
daily. Did he like his capuccini

with extra milk? Not likely. Espresso
was key. Up on coffee, he told Honore,
he’d need fifteen to twenty days to score
an opera. For me, to fluoresce so,

a four-footed firkin of inky coffee
greets me each morn. The steely aroma,
the anima of Lex is the soma
I need to write. I look in those toffee-

colored eyes and know worlds, formerly seen afar,
close up, through the heady brew of my café noir.