trying to take down the throat
large cat eye marble
with no glass of water
is easier for me
than thinking I am a quitter
control of the strings used to be
– in days of taut skin and no rent –
why my hand gripped so tight
time and age
morphed the reason to cling
into perseverance
if I say I want to spin plates
on my clumsy spindle shaped sticks
I will continue twirling and whirling porcelain
standing amongst shards
no way to move
no shift of weight in the balance
making the rotation stoneware saucers
doubly difficult
I’m learning to have grace with myself
starting with plastic dinnerware in the practice
working towards bone china and acrobatics
if crashing and cracking can not be controlled
then
let it go
split those spin sticks and start a fire
down a dessert off those dormant dishes
and lick the plate clean
that’s what they were made for, anyway
hazel meadows 