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Bitter Beans and Water: Sarah

Part 1

By Kathryn BrownPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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Two spoons, late night

Roasted beans and water.

Twelve cups, two mugs

Bitter beans and water.

Ringing bells, a rumpled coat

“Good evening, Sarah!”

Was everything alright?

Well sure, but was Margie here?

No not yet, wait a while, have a cup.

Two spoons, a stove

Roasted beans and water.

Ten cups, two mugs

Bitter beans and water.

Tapping fingers, shuffling slippers

It really was peculiar, her dressed in

Hardly just her robe way out here.

She’d been in a rush, old chap

Had to leave the house at once.

Two scoops, a cigarette

Roasted beans and water.

Eight cups, two mugs

Have you cream and sugar?

Clinking mugs, a creaking chair

She could tell him, now

It was her beau with too much drink

Don’t fret, it must have been

An accident like that.

Two scoops, a bruise

Roasted beans and water.

Six cups, two mugs

Soured cream and sugar.

Quiet sobs, trembling shoulders

“Just this once, you swear?”

No, she wouldn’t lie like that

She’d be fine, of course

Just like every morning.

Two scoops, no change

Roasted beans and water.

Four cups, two mugs

No more cream or sugar.

Murmured apologies, feeble questions

Was there somewhere she could go?

Not really, else she would.

But it would end now after all,

It was too bad, the way it was.

Two spoons, no lies

Roasted beans and water.

Two cups, two mugs

Just bitter beans and water.

Tumbling words, tired eyes

Did she need a place to stay?

What about dear old Margie?

Awe well it was fine

She sometimes would be out late.

Two spoons, bad times

Roasted beans and water.

No cups, two mugs

Bitter truth and water.

Aching back, a struggling stand

“Good God! You’re bleeding bad!”

Indeed she was, the freshest wound

Was showing through and through

Don’t mind it, dear, they always heal.

Two spoons, nine burns

Roasted beans and water

No cups, just cuts

Bitter beans and water.

Changing sheets, closing doors

“I’ll take the couch.”

That was very kind

Goodnight now, friend

We’ll fix this in the morn.

Two spoons, two lives

Roasted home and water.

No cups, no mugs

They’re better beans with sugar.

Quiet sneaks, silent lights

A propane tank turned on

The quickest light

All flame and fury, crisping those inside

The shadow in the night, fleeing from the crime.

Two spoons, sad lines,

Roasted saints and water.

No home, no love

Just bitter beans and water.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Kathryn Brown

Find more at www.heykanb.com :) thanks in advance for the visit!

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