Metaobject

 

The cup from the 1700's
rests on a slightly raised base, to a thousand
roasted storms it has offered up its sides.
Descending from dark, ancestral sideboards,
it has opaque, frosted roses, and spades
in the faceting of the enamel.
Orphaned of companions, of other suits,
it boasts a frightful history and overcomes it.
Some mathematical gesture, a hand--
only that might shatter this prodigy.

 

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