Latte (a poem)

Grind the crime—strong and dark

into obedient powder. Spoon

into filter. Press. Fill
the mouth with boiling water

until all that’s left is confession.
(Inadmissible.) Pour

into ceramic cup. Set
aside. Steam milk

gently. Take care, decrease
heat before foam

begins to rise. Drown
blackness until all that’s left

is fleeting shadow. Father forgive
me. Add sugar to taste. Or not.

While cooling say ten Hail
Mary’s. Sip

slowly. Relish
bitterness at the bottom.


My poem “Latte” interpreted by Curacao visual artist Ailsa Anastasia. Interesting to note: In Papiamento (the local language) the word “Suku” can mean “sweet” or “darkness”, depending on where you put the accent.