11/16
Sonnets From Other Lives: Harry

He wouldn’t have it any other way.
He called it lack of imagination.
An ancient Airstream trailer, bags of clay,
a wheel and time to spend on the creation
of pots & plates & jugs & mugs & vases
in a shed that he’d thrown up months ago.
Retirement & widowerhood the causes.
The effect—a opportunity to go
out into a desert by himself
to put fistfuls of wet earth on a wheel
& mold it into something he can sell
that someone else can use—something real.
After thirty years in business counting beans,
he hopes for half a clue what it all means.