One Single Impression: Ochre

Watching Mr. Rogers
One soft summer afternoon
Years ago
While my daughter
Nodded off in my arms

I watched an Indian woman
Demonstrate
The making of a vessel
By reaching into the earth
For bits of ochre
That she rolled under
Her slender fingers
Into a thin strand
And then spun
Round and round
Spiraling up
Wider and wider
And then in again

And then a pinch and pull
To create a spout

And she was done.

Thank you,

Mr. Rogers said,
And the show was over.

As I nodded off then,
My mind rolled back
To college--
Those literature courses
Full of symbols
That loaded simple things
With too much meaning:

We murder to dissect,
As the man said,
And when that fails
We cram our subjects full
That we might find something
When we dissect.

Symbols:
Vessels were feminine symbols,
The professor said,
And suddenly literature class
Was a mixture of biology, sex ed, porn.

A vessel,
I learned from Mr. Rogers,
Is what you can make

If you touch the earth
In the right place
Warm it in your hand
And turn, turn, turn
With it
Keep going until you're
Done:

A vessel.

One Single Impression