Given a Room of Our Own, Anything…


A cup of words are not 

to be spoken, my love,

instead relish it

like a tree’s sweetness. 

Anything you can cup

in your hands, savor.

Breathe in the sassy

and the silent, breathe

in its everything. 

Sigh clouds 

of immense power

as you breath out.

Say to it, You are my blood,

Sister.  We will nod 

our heads together

over these steaming words—you’ll

have a cup too, perhaps a mug—

and together, my love, 

our anything will be possible. 

Melva Sue Priddy