on the first day of school
bits of limestone and raw clay
took my normal shyness away
and i became the baker with his bread
using time and patience and my head
to knead you.
rising from a heated kiln
one piece off the top shelf had cooled
and i was initially fooled
into thinking i could never learn to fire
or to apply thin glazes with a wire
to pot you.
then, even the fresco on the teacher's wall
became damp and started to fall,
but i watched it take another form
when dried and reapplied warm.
and i was very happy to see
the complete unity
of my final piece.
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