Just now, I was intimidated by an indestructible paper cup
towering in front of me, a long shadow bulging
from its rim. The straw hole in its stained lid vows
to annihilate me, its cardboard jacket sinks
frivolously in the surface of the table.
Sovereignly, he does not move.
I ask what do you want?
- I want to be art, it says.
Don't we all, I say.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem