Oolong

I’m a living doll

in a dollhouse

I cup the hot ceramic

eggshell with blue flowers

demand it be sweetened

“but we don’t put sugar in this tea”

I’m told (why not?)

I sip bitter

the strange leaves settling 

at the bottom

left unfinished  

half will sit untouched

by the time my parents pick up the cheque.

Gypsy woman

reading tea leaves

she gleans the mysteries of the universe

from the bottom of a saucer.

Surrender those brown-green fortune-tellers

—you can’t change destiny.

I think the worst part of having

your future read

is getting through the tea first.

Always, the need to spit 

terrible-tasting roughs

from your lips.

Don’t steep the tea too long

you gradually learn. 

Warm your hands with the cup

turn, turn the smooth ceramic 

with the strange earth taste.

Watch elders meditate over their drinks

steam wafting gently

like their serenity.

Blow the heat away

and sip.

Sip.