Still Life With Soup Pot

Odd how what reflects seems not
to reflect at all, the gleaming pot,
for example, purely extroverted,
its outside replete, inside empty,
lid flirtatiously atilt like the cap
of a sailor on liberty,
aware of everything but itself,
omnivorous enthusiast

of soup, soup, beautiful soup!--
slurping into its whirlpool of reflections
everything, making of an orange, two turnips,
a spaghetti squash, onion and striped cloth
a delicious funhouse soup--
just add daylight and stir,

while wooden bowl and breadboard,
reflectionless, seem to reflect,
brooding, perhaps, about having to be
only themselves, stiff with contempt
for the bright glib distortions,
false fullness and shallow depth
of mere mirrors, consoling themselves,
quiet introverts, with the purity
and dignity of their shadows.

Dean Blehert

Last Updated: October 6, 2002