The Yellow Cup

By Terrance Hayes

I have been a yellow cup full and empty but also as quiet
As the mouth of a yellow cup waiting for your
Mouth. I have been held in the hands of night’s
Curious machine. I have been a yellow cup holding the hour
That measures nothing. Or measures the night as if
It was nothing and measures the day as if it was milk poured
Into nothing and warmed. If your name is the shape of what it
Fills, fill me. If you are steam unraveling or a scent crawling out,
If you are a mouth divided by speaking or a small brown hand, lift
Me. I have been a yellow cup. If the rain comes, and you put
Me on the sill, I will ask what I did not ask you before.
I will wait anywhere you say in a simple room, but
I will not sleep and I will not remain awake. When you sip your
Tea wearing nothing by the bureau, when you are filled,
The warmth of your thirst will make me thirsty. Pour
Something into my body or make me empty. I have no will
Or I have no more will than a yellow cup this hour
Of the night. You can break me. You can make me clean and filthy.