Ode to O's

O, o, o, one thousand wanton O's
float over our soup.
Open your door,
acknowledge your poor,
foolish spoon.

Zoom zoom,
look how your spoon
whooshes across our modest room,
soaring headlong
into your mouth.

No?

Look!
Upon reconsidering,
your spoon rockets over your nose
to moons!
To untold planetoids beyond our world.

Furthermore, you cannot
command your spoon
to our former compromise.