Bowl

by Valerie Martínez


Turn it over and look up
into the sphere of heaven.
The tracery is lucent,
light seeping through to write,
white-ink your face, upturned.


Swing it below
and it's a cradle of blue water,
the sea, a womb.
A mixing bowl
for Babylonian gods.
Here, they whirl up the cosmos.


Pick it up and your hands
form a pedestal,
and all who drink
contain the arcs
of body and the universe—
and between them,


no imaginable tear or distance.

Comments

  1. Lovely. Poem and bowl both (is the pottery yours?). Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Hey, thanks for your thoughts and your time:>)

Popular posts from this blog

Sunday in CinCity. The "Three Things I Know About Life...It Goes On" Edition

Saturday in CinCity. The CollegeGrrrl Guest Writer Edition.

Night Below Zero