Styrofoam Cup
I crush a Styrofoam cup in my hands
And watch it crumble into a dry snow
That the wind carries from the barren land
Beneath me. I wonder where it will go—
If it will leave behind a scattered trail—
Pieces of itself strewn across the world.
In the future, when I try to inhale,
Will I breath-in a speck of the long-whirled
Ruins of my drink? Will they disappear
In the doldrums, the light, passing currents
And pressures that bathe whatever stands here?
Who knows where all our futures will be sent?
My crumpled Styrofoam cup blows away,
Insulating another winter's day.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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