Two Poems | Julian Matthews

Americano

I want to be the too-hot coffee that burns

your crack-stained lips the first thing

in the morning.

You blow, hoping to cool me down just enough

for that relieving sip, head throbbing

from last night's episode,

the needle on your selective memory,

half-remembered, twice forgotten,

in desperate need of that awakening kick.

Then I sting you again.

Too hot, too hot, too hot to tongue

and a tear forms in your bloodshot left eye

and you sniffle. Blow. Again. Persist.

I'm all you ever wanted, you once said.

Grounded, full bodied, bubbly, golden brown

a thin layer of crema on top.

Now, just bitter.

Lazarus

After the awakening, he tried to adjust–

He shunned the fame; the notoriety

When asked for blessings from kin and strangers,

he was at odds as he did not regard himself saintly

nor any holier than before

Nights were the hardest, enveloping and slithery

He hated the smell of linen, blankets were confining–

He slept naked, unwrapped, a dull pearl crawling back

into its shell, away from the baying and clamor

He knew of no heaven nor hell, despite the interrogation

Only remembering the before and the after:

emerging into the light, seeing the relieved faces

of friend and mentor, sisters and brothers

feeling the overwhelming hunger

to be alive, and stay alive

Again

Julian Matthews is a mixed-race minority poet and writer from Malaysia, published in The American Journal of Poetry, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Live Encounters and New Verse News, among other journals and anthologies. He stumbled upon a creative writing workshop by accident seven years ago.
That happy accident has turned into a rabid compulsion. He is still extricating himself from the crash.
If you wish to support his recovery, Paypal him at trinetizen@gmail.com, or send him Wordle answers at
https://linktr.ee/julianmatthews