The Fight

A man is fighting with a cup of coffee. The rules: he must not
break the cup nor spill its coffee; nor must the cup break the
man's bones or spill his blood.

The man said, oh the hell with it, as he swept the cup to
the floor. The cup did not break but its coffee poured out
of its open self.

The cup cried, don't hurt me, please don't hurt me; I am
without mobility, I have no defense save my utility; use
me to hold your coffee.

by Russell Edson

Other poems of EDSON (53)

Comments (1)

The cup cried, don't hurt me, please don't hurt me; I am without mobility, I have no defense save my utility; use me to hold your coffee.