A cup is a quietly intimate thing

That your hands flutter and wrap around

Like a mama bird's wings over her young.

The warmth creeps to your palms

Like a vine that stretches its arms

Around a wide, wide trunk.

The rim leaves a burn on your mouth

Like a lover's first kiss

Slow to come and slow to go.

The smell oozes sweet from its lips

Like the maple

Desire dripped from

His skin.

Except, it's a meeting even more

Clandestine--

To anyone who looks, you are just a girl

Drinking tea.