sample cup

i no longer want
to eat my life from 
a sample cup. i want a bowl
we could sleep in. one that's been
in the family for generations.
chipped ceramic lip. 
i want it full of birds & edible flowers.
i crave a plate to fit my house.
a fullness that doesn't leave when
the lights go out. we drive to costco 
to take a fluorescent bath
& to smell the roasted chicken. 
i don't even eat meat but i marvel
ovens full of bird choirs. all the bodies
holding sample cups. the workers
portioning out raviolis 
& beef tallow chips. whatever new 
morsel they want to feed us.
we take as many as we can.
a seagull meal. candied pecans 
in our teeth. the cups, piling to make
a little brief castle. a place where
everything arrives as just a bite.
i never leave full. i try to think of
the last time i was full. it was a christmas 
so many years ago. night came 
with licorice. all the lights 
in the world were bone & bright.
we ate from paper plates. i think it was 
a roasted chicken. my fingers 
in the sinew & grease. a canned pear.
all three aunts still alive. the tart
crabapples from the tree at the end
of the driveway. i fell asleep 
on the drive home. i steal an empty 
sample cup before we leave costco.
i hold it up just to see. even from
this far away the moon will not fit.
i decide to keep the cup & use it to find out
when we all have enough. i do not want
my beloveds to have to hang on
to just a taste.