Poem 3 of The Gamut

(Small)

In a wide flat field
a porcelain cup
with a crack on the lip
where a blade of grass
peeps through
from a fold at the end of the blade
and the crease is at a slight angle
three quarters along the blade
and crosses the breadth to almost
the fold in the blade is incomplete

the unfolded portion
wore a scarf of salt from a recent storm
of a portion of quiet raindrop
from a low-lying cloud nearly the shape
of an isosceles triangle

that disappeared in less than ten minutes

from a flock of birds pecking at its sides

dust of the flock’s underwing
stroked the latent rain
in the lowlying partial isosceles cloud
that descended to a wide flat field
and landed in the lipchipped cup
that splashed as a typhoon landfall
onto the unfolded portion of the
short angled crease three quarters along the blade of grass
and layed a world of pecking birds’
wingdust that washed like salt spray

I sipped the rain from the cup
and ended with a piece of loud grass on my tooth
I half smiled, half-delirious with prelude
with a chipped cup, rain for wine, dust for salt
cloud for lucky charm, and a blade of grass for breakfast
garnered from an abandoned picnic.