Poems

Cassandra Dickinson: ‘My Mother Only Drinks from Fine China’

My Mother Only Drinks from Fine China For my mother, Veronica She says “There is something sacred about the chalice you choose, the vessel from which you anoint your lips with the life-giving elixir of coffee or tea.” She says “With each sip we are partaking in history. We are connected to an ancient world which has been buried by a tide of plastic and cardboard and Styrofoam.” She says “You can shove your take-away-sustainable-biodegradable-fashionable-‘Keep-Cup’ where the sun refuseth to shine. Because drinking is a ritual. It is a holy rite.” She says “Besides, everything tastes better in fine china.”…

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