Rage Like Turkish Coffee Poem by Sonny Rainshine

Your rage, like Turkish coffee,
dispenses in unctuous streams.
Dark, rich as concentrated syrup,
you like the taste of it,
and you serve it in miniature cups
with no saucer to collect
the over-spill.

You take it black
and bitter as green persimmons.
Fury and wrath are your substitutes
for milk and sugar,
and the taste lingers
on your lips, and the heat
is fiery on your fingers.

Take back your scalding pot
of roiling words and boiling spleen.
I have drunk your incendiary liqueur,
once too many times, and now
I spit it out.