Some slurp the entire bowl

upon first glance,

marooned throats

welcoming the ocean’s tears

Her cup of sadness

remains overbrimming,

piping hot

It sits touched

only by a wet, dripping salt

tinged with blue

She gathers a spoonful,

closes her eyes;

she walks away still


Tomorrow, another

steaming spoonful

waits for her


until curved metal

gently scrapes


A spoonful a day

is good for

the heart

Concept inspired by Ralph Fletcher’s Fig Pudding


One thought on “Spoonfuls

  1. Ning says:

    I like! It’s sad, but oddly – hopeful too.

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