without ceremony

Greek coffee turns the cup 
into a sort of earth, the kind 
for digging graves into

her tongue breaks the surface
like the word yes, spoken to break 
the sound

              of skin collapsing

the dirt of grinds 
that never settled to the bottom
are not interested in telling her the future 

tasting only of the present 
they slide  down her throat
like earthworms, contracting and expanding their bodies

              it feels like being buried alive

sometime later it will hit her that
bodies that go to dirt
without ceremony

go to dirt
with no stones 
to mark their places.

© Dimitra Xidous