A Passing Moment

I'm reading this poem today in my poetry class, so I figured I could share it on the blog. By the way, reading your own poetry is extremely intimidating.

I closed my eyes

and I returned for a passing moment
to the plastic teacup societies.
Though I carried nothing they welcomed me
with sticky fingers and barefoot decorum.

Back to the place where paper is linen.
Tea is served promptly at whenIsayso,
and though you ate the last of the brownies
you belong to the order. You are a We.

Tea is done and we dismiss ourselves with
pirouettes over the softest green blades.
We spin ourselves into colored spheres
and smear the things that we don't understand.

Then, a heart-breaking-knee-scraping falter
seems to push the world forward into night.
Their cries were met by swooping matriarchs,
my cry unanswered by a cold dark sky.

I opened my eyes.