Against All Cipation
She sat at the small circular table
the grain now strained
from smears of spilled liquids
a newly placed cup
mist clouds of heat feathering upwards
her gaze darted to the windows
as a glare flicked its tongue against the glass
mocca waves as she gently
blew then sipped at its warmth
the slight clink of cup and saucer
bringing her eyes back to the battle ground
her attention enthused
in a single drop that rolled down the outside
a cough from before the onslaught
she interlocked her fingers
giving her a sembelance of peace
she slowly tiltled her head
her eyes focused and still
her tongue gently misting her lips
her simple lips now pursed
a growl giving birth to her utterance...
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