Glaze, Kiln, and Sparkle

I’ve seen a lot of pottery videos.

Shorts of people making clay sculptures.

Shaping them, molding them as they spin.

Pouring them into molds they found on the internet

Just to see

What comes out.


It’s nice, sometimes, to watch someone create.


I don’t make pottery.

But I find myself with my own molds

Confines much larger than me

That I compulsively try to fill.


When clay dries in its mold, it sets.

It is ready to be dipped in a glaze

To be fired in a kiln

And to come out sparkling.

Shining with a fresh, remarkable beauty that it didn’t quite have before.

A deeper intensity. A glowing image.

Shined to perfection by the process.


But when I dry in my mold…

I yearn to reshape myself.

The glaze washes over me

A dreary fog, a disorienting coat.

It consumes me in my entirety

Just in time for the kiln to scar my skin.

When will I sparkle?


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