Just as there are no stupid questions,
I think,
There are no mundane uses
For the beautiful

Not the pomegranate,
Deseeded by virtue of patience,
Cold water,
And six months in hell,
Now sinking to the bottom
Of a bowl of Special K

Nor the holy grail,
Ceramic, stained well-loved
By infinite cups of coffee
(Blood of Christ,
These days)
Sitting wrong-side up
On a shelf of mugs
In the kitchen
Of a Buddhist

                                 'Q

                                 (10/24/12)