THE CROW’S MONARCH:
On a high stool at a high shelf in the window of a different cafe.
Teapot, teacup, saucer, porridge, tiny pot of honey & a black
plastic spoon. The girl behind the counter starts stirring the
porridge with the spoon without wiping it, pushes it towards me,
smiling. I watch the black stump disappear into the oatie swamp,
hoping the scalding water will have killed off winter’s finger-vermin.