A plain water glass,
curving around on itself to contain what is put in.
Flavorless, colorless,
looks like, tastes like only what may be put in.
Becomes a glass of milk, a glass of orange juice, a glass of coca-cola
with bubbles and ice.

Each time slowly emptied, washed, no trace of what was,
to become again what it fundamentally is,
an empty glass,
no matter how many times filled.

Eventually gaining scratches, stains.
Eventually to be dropped, broken,
and so not capable of being even an empty thing.

All I have ever
known how to be.
Sometimes empty,
sometimes milk, juice, water,
pebbles gathered by a child,
flowers.
Happily I become again for a while
all I can ever be,
with bubbles and ice.