As she walked I heard a sigh
        of silk.  Her high heeled sandals
        clicked across the floor.  And then
        she stopped, and when she turned she

        laughed as though she'd found something
        amusing in what she'd heard.
        " I wish you both all joy," she
        said.  "He is all you could want." 

        And then without waiting for
        an answer or saying good-
        bye, she opened the door to
        the hall, blew a kiss, and left

        me to clear up all the mess
        of tea, to address what she'd
        said without her to listen
        or explain, but then  I knew

        what she'd meant; of course, she
        knew me, what I'd say, had
        no need to hear even a word
        of it. I heard the doorbell

        ring, but I  didn't move to
        answer her. You can imagine
        my heart racing.  And I sat
        and stared at the set table

        while the doorbell rang, three
        short rings. " She has no right," I
        said to the air.  I picked up
        her cup, swallowed all she had

        left of the pale tea, like gold
        water, cold, slightly bitter.
        In the bottom, a few tea
        leaves, to me, meaningless now.

Copyright © Miriam N. Kotzin, 2004. All Rights Reserved.