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May 142011
 

by Crystal Rast


Earth was here before the casting

Clay before the molding and fire

Creation of porcelain sleek curves

In a kiln of white hot desire

The time of crafting now gone

Mud once caressed lovingly

For what it would become, now lies

In the hands of one who appreciates

Its utility, its place in the home

A tool once sacred and adored

Now shelved

Among the other home things

Its suitability marked by

A shiny silver ribbon

Just a cup—

Sometimes full to the brim,

Drank deeply

Sometimes, overflowing

Too much sweetness

For that same pair of lips

An empty container, haunted, longing

To be cast on the pedestal again.