an invitation to tea
for the 'teacup' prompt at xpoetic.

gilded porcelain, smudged
with the bitter-sharp taste of anise,
sits smugly
upon a mismatched saucer.

one would think that you'd have more taste
than this—than to expect
that I'd drink stale Oriental tea
drowning in the dregs of absinthe
in the house of such nouveaux riches,
that I'd listen
to your blatant insinuations.
you sit, a crimson-mouthed harpy
attempting to pass for a serpentine dauphine,
presuming to prevail
against my social position, my wealth,
inviting me to drink
with this second-rate tea set.

it takes more to insult me, my dear,
than gaudy stationery
and half-hearted bribes.
the delicate crunch
of your teacup beneath my heel
is curiously satisfying.