Jan/Feb 2003 • Poetry |
The Cup
Curved handle
coolwhite ceramic, takes flight:
a snowbird's wing arching
over the sky's soar into unknown—
known in its airy bones—
sip from this object of earth
that flies into the sky,
grow wings, imagine its cool
circle large enough
for you to flutter into, bathe
your wings, come out cleansed
before you fly away.