Mid-day poem

ceramic clinks on ceramic
the white tiled table makes the bright room look clean and sparse
cozy
a little oven that smells when you turn on the burner
an electric tea kettle on the shelf above the teas;
homely pleasure
museum hygge
someone's grandmother's clean cottage kitchen,
well-lit
it makes you feel suspended in an antiseptic memory;
a respite from all the dark, under-lit, stuffy homes.

light shines a certain way on the curve of the table
which should have a bowl of lemons on it.
instead, curiously, a single crystal in the crystal bowl
funnels bright light from the window
I remember the first time I saw a rainbow through a prism
in the garden at my preschool
it spit out rainbows everywhere when it rained
flashing from the glittering walls of my young chrysalis.

condensation like fungal crust or animal hide
gathers along the rim of my ladybug teacup
when I look back, it has dripped into the tea water
darkening like a wayward cloud in the summertime.