Monday Poem

Cup

Grandpas Cup

—for Catherine Regec Mraz

this is how I most
remember her I’d have been
maybe eight, I open the door
to her house and hear
the latch click,
clock tick
we have tea at her table
I ask for grandpa’s cup
which she brings from her pantry shelf
and sets upon the table
pours hot water into its metal
beige-enameled steam-blessed bowl
with light-green rim
adds teabag a little sugar
I stir and sip as she in
Slovak-embellished English,
smiling, asks about my day and life
in the fragrant atmosphere
of chicken boiling in the soup
she made so well,
and calls me
Jeemy

………… I have that cup

—when the house was sold
after they’d gone we were gifted
with a last-chance tour
of rooms so simply lived in
and there’s my grandfather’s cup
on the shelf where he’d left it
near his wife’s tea and sugar
and
as was anciently told
I asked and it was given

Jim Culleny
6/7/19

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