The Cup

The coffee cup sits there,

still steaming. I said no

while standing in the kitchen,

my hand shaking so much

I thought she could hear it

through the phone.

Now I'm standing in the same spot.

The cup is still there.

I could call back. I could say

I made a mistake. I could say

yes to the city, yes to the move,

yes to the person I might become

if I left.

But I'm still here.

The steam is almost gone.