Marble Swirls in Soft Clay
On a cold, hard tile floor I sit focused
Each hand molding a chunk of clay:
One pink, one blue.
Curiosity draws magnet hands together as
Layers of pink and blue swirl,
into purple hues.
In a striking, lovely softness.
Happy fingers twist and shape but
In my mind streaks the memory
of being taught not to mix colors.
They'll lose their vibrance. They'll end up grey.
You'll understand when you're older.
I wonder why each unique mixture
Can't also be seen as beautiful
Why is mixing sunset colors scolded?
I just want to share with you
the magical swirls of dough but I
Worry about your anger, your disappointment.
In my reverie I seem to learn
For a moment to see the creations
My own hands produce as brilliant, anyway.
Pretty enough to eat.
So I take a bit of dough to taste
Pink and blue prepared my tongue for sugar
But gooey salt makes my belly churn
As it coats my teeth and expands toward
Smooth cheek skin.
Salty bubble gum doubles and
oozes toward the back of my throat.
the mixture sticks to my gums.
I peel it down between teeth crevices.
I reach to pull it out but it comes in small chunks and grows further
Sour candy bubbles popping
Unspoken words on my tongue.
The feeling of stuckness makes my hands sweat.
I hear footsteps on tile.
I search for your eyes watching.
All I want is to find you first
To tell you what I am doing:
Mixing and feeling through to find,
In solid form, the thing my heart might love most.
Painting: Ebb and Flow, Kenzie Wells, 2016