But "cup" sounds too dixie,
too much the toothbrush's companion
Joy's cup is a goblet
opaque, not crystal
and weightless in one's hand while stolid on the table
But "goblet" sounds too regal, too Renaissance Faire
"Glass" is out of the question, being glass
And "mug" would only do for a shot, while joy must be gulped
So we are back to cups -
Cups of joy which we raise
Because joy wishes to return to whence it came -
from above the starry canopy
Beyond where our telescopes can reach.
And it will return there,
As our drinks turn into songs
And we lift our voices to be heard,
slurrring, across the vastness of space.
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