Vessels

Vessels

She works the clay

small hands

shaping what should be

the mortality

of a cup

a bowl

a pitcher

is clear:

the poem, burned

is resurrected

in the mind, on the lips but once

the cup slips

who can reassemble

the pieces?

They assured her the

problem was

a matter of perception

only

not intellect

ideas swirl

above her son as he

snatches

at them

works to place them

upon the moving target

of his poem

it is as if,

she thinks, he were

spilling over and in need

of gathering

rainwater rolls

from the corrugated

roof as she

works the pedal

calves, thighs, bouncing--

accustomed to this, shaping,

reshaping

what is still malleable

she presses down again

pours more water over the

spinning

mass

water

more water

but after the spinning

after the sun,

the oven,

how fragile