Heat Loss

I unscrew the cap and the steam is a lie.

It’s just a thin vapor that vanishes

before it hits my face.

The tea is tepid, the color of a puddle,

tasting mostly of the metal walls.

There’s a brown ring inside the lid

from a month of poor rinsing.

I sit on the bench and drink it anyway,

feeling the lukewarm liquid

settle like a stone in my gut.