Morning Coffee
She complains about her routine
as she clings to it,
doing tasks on autopilot —
early mornings, as if walking on eggshells,
she slips into the shower, then the kitchen
where the coffee pot she rinsed the night before
awaits her.
Her shiny blue mug
reminds her of a night,
far back at a campsite,
its dark blue sky illuminated
by a prominent moon
and abundant, cheering stars.
The light, beamed and shared, reigned
like monochromatic fireworks.
Back to the coffee cup: she takes a sip,
zooms in; feels left out.
Her friends have side notes,
hushed discussions, secondary acquaintances,
secret addictions. Quintessentially,
they shop around, gossip, do yoga, seek pleasure.
They cheat time to forget a helpless present.
They extend and stretch arms, push up chests, inhale desires,
and soak in the forbidden — the messy.
She feels like a shipwreck,
exhausted from long voyages,
salty baths,
and the weight of the wrinkly luggage of young sailors.
Dimensions Description:
The imagery of this collection varies from a silky pillow, to a bullet hole inside a school’s wall. It depicts revolutionaries and lovers around the globe, and highlights a freckle majestically placed under the most luscious lips. This collection takes us from the kitchen to the office walls, stopping for a nature hike, and onto sleeping with a herd of wolves conspiring to overthrow a corrupted regime. It is liberating and inquisitive. Inside the cover, young people hold white roses as they dance, while birds denounce misery, and witness the distribution of love.
The poems are reports from the field; the emotional quest of someone trying to decipher relationships and bring us closer. Mohamed Chaouchi opens a window onto a horizon bordering an ocean. He is eager to share stories, which are usually told at night when the silver moon looks its best, and the naked lover is the warmest inside its nest.
