THREE GIFTS

THREE GIFTS FOR MY MOTHER

                           I

Sometime in its history the handle found that fate

Did not call it to remain part of a cup, so it left;

The rest of the cup I have now. On it, a pattern

Of brown and yellow small leaves chase one another.

                           II

If you look at it closely the onyx cube will show

A building shimmering on a green background

Why this was I didn’t know; the Aztec craftsman

Who surely carved it, must have had his reasons.

                           III

I have that too, and the Japanese demon queller.

It worked; no Japanese demons ever came by.

I wonder if they sometimes complain to my mother now

“We travelled so far to see you; why did you quell us?”