Bowl

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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. dsSeptember 16, 2010 at 7:40 AM

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

    ReplyDelete

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

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