National Poetry Month: Day #14

Sometimes, a cup of tea is all you need to make a poem:

Susceptible to Metaphor

"The whole world is less susceptible to metaphor than a teacup is." —Wallace Stevens

Van Morrison rails incantations,
valedictions to John Donne, while I step
into the kitchen to perform
the minor miracle
of turning water into
tea.

I reach into the cupboard, take
a cup and then a moment
to regard its mute companions inverted
like hollow men, their handle arms akimbo,
poised expectantly on their nonexistent
hips.

White as bones beyond
the supplications of flesh,
these shallow, patient bowls
unnerve me with their arrogance,
their assurance they will be
filled.

Such purpose disturbs me,
and I think of Pascal
railing against his mistress
of the world, imagination.
Then I remember they are just
cups.

I close the cupboard door, pour myself
some tea and go back
to Morrison's soul in wonder,
a pleasant irony to lull me
while I write this
poem.

©2000 L.A. Smith.