the bag sits
in the bone china cup
no need to brew a whole pot
she pours the boiling kettle
water turning black -
then with a tarnished spoon
squeezes the sodden mass
against the side
just a dribble
from the UHT carton
to give the brew
a light tan hue
Is it ready yet?
the voice
booming from
the bedroon
flicking the bag aside
she mutters, "lazy old sod,
what did your last
servant die of?"
...
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