This metallic message from god
Tells me to ice cream, or stir the milk into the coffee cup
It has been sent to us from above
A smooth specimen, rounded by the heavens, and cool to the touch
like the gentle breeze of the ocean
or the caress of an infant’s tiny hand.
It does not need to be sharp, for it possesses the divine power to feed
I look at it, and it looks back at me
The distorted reflection smiles
As the sound of my laughter rings off of it
There is nothing quite like a spoon.