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Empty your Cup
by Jeannie E. Roberts
           ‐response to Susan Florence's line of poetry, He hands me the cup of his sorrow.

The drab stains of agony
coat surface, glaze base.

Grief's dull thrum rims
handle, where fractures

efface hollow, and pain's
thin lip pleads for release.

He hands me the cup of his
sorrow, and I pour, where

rapids churn river, I wash,
where shadows meet light‐

a crayfish hides beneath
the watery drop of decay,

when he darts upward‐
how close we come to the

undertow and the illusion
of drowning.


 

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