This round plate
Sits on my kitchen shelf
Staring with its broad red rim
And bright central floral eye.
I have kept a bed in five nations,
Seen the sun arise at odd times.
I must probe with blind fingers
Into memory to feel origins.
Birthdays at age two and six and eight
Saw my mother pedestal my cakes
On this very plate.
It gives me history.
One glance, one touch
Confers personal mythology