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?”
