R. Virgil Ellis 


The cup, dead-white, 
has no idea that it waits 
for an end of your own. 

But the bean, nut-brown, 
has so little shelf-life 
and so much else inside 

you make it bleed; 
you smell in your bones 
how it redeems the air, 

You flutter to the cup. 
Finger and thumb 

bring china to your lip. 
Doors open 
when you sip. 

Copyright 2000, R. Virgil Ellis 

R. Virgil (Ron) Ellis lives near Cambridge, Wisconsin. He is widely published and has most recently placed poems with WordWrights, New Works Review, new digressions, Recursive Angel, 2River View, The Wolf Head Quarterly, The Lucid Stone, and Mississippi Review Web. His site is http://woodhenge.ampps.com and he can be contacted at rvellis@ampps.com.

Switched-on Gutenberg/Vol. 4, No. 2 

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