Pottery Lesson

DAVE, 1819

 

I sit by the door

of the turning house

and watch Master Drake

form our clay

into a jar,

wide in the middle,

narrow on top,

his hands steady

while he kicks the wheel

at the bottom,

making the upper wheel turn

faster and faster.

He adds water,

then pulls up the sides

of the jar,

shaping and trimming—

like magic.

 

“Are you staring at me, Dave?”

“No, Master,” I say.

“Do you want to learn

to turn a pot?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Get up here, boy.”

“Right now?” I ask.

“I’m waiting,” he says.

 

I scramble to my feet.

“Balance your weight,

now kick the bottom wheel

and center the mound.

Keep that wheel spinning.

You got it, boy.

Put your thumb in the middle

and squeeze.”

 

In my hands

the clay comes to life,

growing so quick,

like a weed in the rain.

Master Drake is watching.

Then he says,

“Looks like

you may have talent, Dave.”

 

My heart starts beating so fast

I can hardly breathe.

Slow and steady,

I draw that jar right up.