The Existential Dilemma Of Ordinary Objects

Igor Kadinsky's mug Is green and tin with literary pretensions. It yearns of setting its lip to Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, Yevtushenko. When steam curls up its sides It thinks of trains, a hedonistic frisson. Father 0' Rourke's cup Is stained, with hidden depths. Its hand is placed on its hip, Like Marilyn Munro Descending the stairs Into a roomful of partying politicians. Mary Brady's tumbler's secretive, Hasn't been out for years. It's in a locked cabinet, Giving nothing away. The Laird of Inverquhomerie's silver quaich Dreams of multiple salivations, When a quaich was an item Revered by congregations, When tongues like little fishes Licked its sides.