clay

January 2nd, 2020 | 3 Entries

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3 Entries for “clay”

  1. The year stretches out,
    my hands red from trying to mold
    its granular form.

    It always spins out.

    If clay isn’t centered on a wheel,
    it breaks orbit, the collateral
    its entire shape.

    I keep throwing lopsided bowls
    of last year – broken cups of the year before,
    and they’ll hold nothing.
    They’ll never hold anything
    but memory, dents and fingerprints
    that no one wants to touch.

  2. The red dirt of the Earth stuck to her shoes. She grinned, more than pleased with herself for being here.

  3. you are holding a memory
    and your hands begin
    to lose their solidity
    soft like clay

    Bridget