Susan Daniels Poetry

for T

If  I could, I would make this
A measurable thing;
I would breathe into it
My spirit, animate this vessel
While it is unwedged potential
Balanced in my palms,
Before that slap and press
So similar to a baker
Kneading dough,

But it is not bread
I would make for you.
I know, thrown and centered
My substance would compose itself
In a directed dance; the way my flesh rises
Under the lathe of your hands
In waves crested to fantastic forms
By your fingers.

I would dry our blended tears
To a cobalt salt glaze,
Blue as the September sky we met under,
Darkened by tannins.

Clay breaks.
What it holds, I hold
And cannot be contained forever
In jars or hands,
Covered and unvoiced–

But try this vessel.
You will find a love, though
Cracked on the surface
From past firing,
Unbroken in it’s essence.

Strength is not always motion,
Though for you I would lift up worlds.

Sometimes it is shown
Only in holding together,
The way stones own it.

for T

If I could, I would make this a palpable thing,
weigh and shape yearning like clay
wheeled into fantastic forms, hollowed by hands
and glazed with promises only you hear.
Something this big resists firing
but withstands heat.

Try it, and you will find love
cracked on the surface
but unbreaking in its substance.
Strength is not always motion.
Sometimes it is shown
only in holding together.