Making a Bowl

As I make this bowl,
as my grip slides over its
smoothly curved sides,
runs along its careful foot ring,
 I am making it mine.
  Every waver of my hands,
   every slip of my fingertips
     across the slurry surface
       as I draw them up the wall
         from the foot to the lip,
             will be forever fossilized
                  under a thick hazy glaze
                       that flows fluid over its surface,
                           a kiln-hardened coat of metal and clay
                                 that erases the traces of my mistakes,
                                    of my struggle to make
                                 this—my bowl.

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