Tea Mugs for Two Writers

Poem No. 112

I love living with another writer. Petra and I share a symmetrical passion for books, stories, and tea, and it makes for a cozy life.

We also share a love of pens, though that love is asymmetrical. By this I mean we each have our own favorite brand of pen. And while she openly does not like writing with mine, I… secretly enjoy scribbling with hers. Thus my pens never wander around the house, while sometimes hers (through deeply mysterious and mystical means) end up on my desk.

Sorry, Love. 😘

It’s hard for a writing home to have too many pens. It’s also hard for our home to have too many books, too much tea, or too many mugs:

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Tea Mugs for Two Writers

There’s the one with the chicken 
standing on the pig,
and the one with the dog 
that took two tries to buy. 

There’s the round-handled one,
filled with your pens,
and the ones on the high shelf
meant only for guests.

There’s the two little white ones 
you want when you’re sick, 
and your blue everyday one, 
shaped like your hands,

then my everyday one,
which reminds me of friends,
and the one with the castle
from that thrift store on Sprague.

It’s retired from tea now,
and holds pens on my desk,
because we convinced ourselves
it must be painted in lead,

and there’s the one right beside it
we shattered that night
laughing and running
wild in our home.

I glued it back together, 
a fun ceramic puzzle,
and now it holds a tiny ruler
and even more pens.

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There’s something about these ‘catalogue’ poems I really enjoy. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but if you enjoy this format, too, I shared another one a few months ago you might like, about the history of my tiny desk.

Thanks for reading, and I hope this finds you drinking something delicious from a beloved mug, scribbling your thoughts with the perfect pen (borrowed or otherwise),
~ A

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