China-focused Satire, Social Commentary, Comics and More

Ode to a Chinese Food Bowl: a poem


Ode to a Chinese Food Bowl

What lies beneath your painted skin –
Beneath those cartoons fading gray?
Are you shaped of pure, white porcelain
Or of a cheap synthetic blend?

Held within your emptiness,
That quality that grants your use,
The slimy strands of boiled grass,
Mix with clumps of rice, or soup

And in the morn’ the frothy drip
Of toothpaste water – gargled, spat –
Sloshes o’er your chipped, sharp lip
and lands into garbaged path

But even once you have been rinsed
With boiling tea, or soap, perchance
The stench and stain will still persist –
Remnants of the meals long past.

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