a free verse poem Hot tea, infused with sugarwhite, granular, swallowed-up.Powdered creamer swirls, slips inside, a marriageof “Good Morning” and “Wake up”to me, sleepy on the couch. Pungent warmth to tongue, to throat,to the insides…a dissipationto soothe the memoriesaway. Some days they come. A survivor, me? The multi-syllabic mess of me? You have so much to offer, she said, with a genuine smile.She was…