Cup Of Tea?

Cup of tea

It was the first
thing I drank
after you had died
your body still settling
into emptiness
your soul hovering
waiting for a brew.

I dipped my finger
into the cup-
not bone china
as you had liked-
and made the sign
of the cross
on your forehead.
It was a last sacred
moment to share.

I sit supping
in the lull
that follows death.
And even though
my insides are squeezed
shut with pain
the tea tastes good.