By Lekey Leidecker 

I have never seen anything

so perfect.

The crystalline crunch

on her tongue.

It’s enough to wipe

the taste of ten unsatisfactory

coffees from ten new mouths.

O, let the revolution be simple.

Let it ferment and age

and grow old.

Such thunder, savory and final.

It’s not that I’m not sad,

but there are things worth fighting for.

It’s that every night,

I’m awake

Mid-pandemic

overdue fires burning,

My husband

Reaching for me

In his sleep