Four of us sit silently, almost comfortably

around a varnished table, sipping tea—

an unknown herbal kind, the one mom

bought from the nearby Ayurvedic shop—

sipping slowly, cupping our hands

around the ceramic cups, gauzing

the warmth inside. I dream of parijat flowers,

pastel white falling throughout this morning.

Perhaps I am wrong about the fall.

I dream of heartbroken flowers, falling

from different heights—the same Patricia saw

some forty years ago. In this melancholy house,

I am one of those flowers, falling off

the teapot into the cup.

Yayāti

Note: In her essay, “Look at a Teacup,” Patricia Hampl explored the mother-daughter relationship in a post-WWII America by using the imagery of ‘falling flowers’ to represent the fall of humanity.