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I found the last plate
From my mother’s every-day dishes
I used to think they were fancy
But they were just another nod
To post war prosperity
Cheap enough for the newly consumerist masses
A 50s knock-off
Of the more famous ancient pattern

My brother has the photo
That I spent hours looking for last week
I was half relieved
That it wasn’t lost
And half annoyed that he had it
As though I have the greater claim somehow
But it made me sad
Because it showed my mother
Wearing her carnelian necklace
Which I lost

Blue Danube dishes 

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