Poem: The Black Mug

13 08 2016

I have adopted it as my own

– The black mug

Without design,

A simple shape

And graceful lip.

It rests in the office cabinet

Unfavored by those

With noisier tastes.


To me it is


Of complications ever-present,

A void

A cave

Where secret thoughts escape

The burning sun of conscription.


I broadcast no slogan,

No sardonic flag.

You cannot own

A pithy image,

Your co-worker in five words

Or even less.


I sip the black mug-

A moment of nondescription

Among tidy boxes.

I enter the void gladly


I escape.



One response

13 08 2016
Wayne Schmoyer

I LOOOVE IT! reminds me of the all white mug on my desk! 🙂

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