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.
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
begging to be followed.
each breath she takes serrated, the edges
her sweaty palms
until she exhales rusty tears
and starts to feel again.