We should meet for coffee.
We’ve waited until the ache of despair
has passed and our bones have not rotted yet.

We have curled hair and painted nails
before the years took both fine strands
and cuticles from our corpses

and we still flip our heads
as if the hair and nails sung tones
crafting spells on all in our paths.

We should not wait to break bread
and sip coffee brewed from Arabica beans,
we must not wait any more.