Hot Desk: Poetry from Michael Stratford Hutch #3

iv: aftertaste; burnt coffee


I spent eternities in that café



asking the room to take its place

at the foot of my table

kick off its shoes and start

talking telling

me                                      everything


like spacetime was

just an old friend


oh             I waited so long!

for something


to come to mind

to scrape the insides

clean of this blankness


a hollow river

channelling a bad memory

like the aftertaste

of burnt coffee


I seemed to yawn open

cavernous full

of nothing


the non-resident who holds their breath

waiting for some impossible wave

to break                 never


Michael Stratford Hutch completed this poem as part of the Tasmanian Writers Centre Hot Desk residency program.