Lost Wax

From coldish clay of spinning wheel
the molding center splatters wet
and arcs and flies from forms intent
to rising tensions purposed there
the shape and use of wild speed
and practice spell the tame of chaos
in the desiccate shelved seed and
chalky remainder of all things
prior to their end that must be fired
for strength to spring them ready for
their story of the once begun
and ere enjoined with glory meet
upon life’s floor and shattered there
reground remixed the shards to greet
the mold wax lost to clay the story told
again what all await to hold to fling
the water at the center of the cup
the sweetest taste
and lips to tell and sing.