Take this Cup

At first I do not see the mark you leave on my wrist.
The dog barks at the sun, peering through
The window in the door.
I am startled.
I do not expect you to be anywhere.
But I do.
Because steam blooms now from the spilled cup
And the beast sleeps in dust
Raining down
Against dark mountains of its dreams.
Faraway, the apparition of light
In the flesh of rainclouds.

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