An Afternoon

Poetry by Criag Amoss

Originally published in Tangents 1.5

January 1966

An Afternoon

he brewed sand, dug from the warmer beaches near virginia

and carried in a glass flute played one mailman grey morning,

in a turkish urn whose metal sides turned red from the steam inside

until, after the whole afternoon had been spent checking aroma

floating from the spout and taking occasional walks around the room,

we poured

the lava liquid into six green cups

and let sit until cooled

i was flemish by nature and so when the ritual began

took seat at the window

while he balanced the room and crossed his one leg

over the arm of a chair and sang

the song is custom when one is sad

though that day we became carelessly unmoved

by the sun and noise from the street outside

we were pinned more host and guest—priest and congregation

than to imagine the world a poetical meter

©1966, 2016 by The Tangent Group. All rights reserved.