Low in globs of mud,
eye, ear of Earth
I sculpt a portrait:
my brother’s head
Uncanny golem:
the strong cheeks, the pebble nose
even, maybe, those cute dimples
fired in July’s kiln
the mud cooks and is rock
I call Mumma and she looks,
laughing at the lifelike
When the birds broke
from the bushes and la-la-lelled
the sun from the sky,
they brought rain
a pummeling dark
with a jealous streak
That bullied the cherub
broke the bowl of mouth
flattened his forehead
swallowed his nose stone
caved in the eyes’ roundness
I call Mumma and she looks,
shrugs, “It’s all just mud to me”
eye, ear of Earth
I sculpt a portrait:
my brother’s head
Uncanny golem:
the strong cheeks, the pebble nose
even, maybe, those cute dimples
fired in July’s kiln
the mud cooks and is rock
I call Mumma and she looks,
laughing at the lifelike
When the birds broke
from the bushes and la-la-lelled
the sun from the sky,
they brought rain
a pummeling dark
with a jealous streak
That bullied the cherub
broke the bowl of mouth
flattened his forehead
swallowed his nose stone
caved in the eyes’ roundness
I call Mumma and she looks,
shrugs, “It’s all just mud to me”
