A small chip on the lips of a white porcelain cup
caught my eye, glaring at me like an angry
ant ready to bite my lips with its sharp edge
which could slit my skin and bleed red.
Numbed by too many moving parts
ready to raise a cacophony of paper cuts,
I grabbed its neck
and mindlessly tossed it in the can
as if that’s all there’s to it; just a cup of porcelain.
Yet I remember the way its smooth white surface glistened
under the sunlight on a cold winter day.
11.15.2025
Ralph with Coffee 