On a Museum's Lusterware Bowl

Out of lapis blue the face
         rises
round and smiling like a bell.
         Black curves
swell entirely until they
         seem to
fill the bowl, like the peach tree
         haloed
by the arch of Mahan's flower-
         lit pool.
Humble, blossoms wholly still,
         it stands,
friend who comes and with a smile
         completes.