Two Poems by Laurie Kolp

Molding You

One layer at a time, I show you
how to coil wet clay, rope

around hollow center, entwine
until a wall is formed, a wall

firm enough to withstand diversity.
Then I guide your hands with mine.

Wedging earth, I double check
the fleshy mold; unwanted bubbles

might form kinks in finished piece.
As we progress to the next level

our skin, lathered in liquid slip,
tickles us to giggles as we spin.

I wish I could create a bowl
big enough to encapsulate you

keep you safe from the unknown,
but I only lose your attention

watch as you move on
hoping you’ll return eventually.

Seeking Relief

Formed on her face, a pout of disgust
as she storms from home to woods,
her anger like moon phases—
cycles predictable, yet not.

At certain times, wads
of crumpled paper torn from spiral notebooks
where she keeps top-secret words
create a path through the forest
like breadcrumbs
begging to be followed.

Inhaling pine—
each breath she takes serrated, the edges
gathered leaves
pressed between
her sweaty palms

until she exhales rusty tears
and starts to feel again.

Laurie Kolp, author of Upon the Blue Couch (Winter Goose Publishing, 2014), serves as president of Texas Gulf Coast Writers and belongs to the Poetry Society of Texas. Laurie’s poems have appeared in more than four dozen publications including the 2015 Poet’s Market and The Crafty Poet. Laurie’s website: http://lauriekolp.com.