Making Porcelain Roses
Aunt Elsie's Hands
My Aunt Elsie would wring her hands with shame.
Or hide her face when the cameras came out.
Decades in a laundry had without doubt
Formed huge lumps on her wrists. Liver spots came
Popping up to her elbows. She'd reframe
From wearing short sleeves, or from reaching out
To clasp other unruined hands. About
Her diabetic numbed fingers there came
Enchantments strange. From her kiln sprang people
Not from magic wands darting and dancing
Or spellbinding. Aunt Elsie's hands would scroll
Quizzical brows with a flick and brush pull.
Porcelain clay changed into wonderful things.
We all knew that her hands were beautiful.
Making Porcelain Roses
Aunt Elsie's Hands
My Aunt Elsie would wring her hands with shame.
Or hide her face when the cameras came out.
Decades in a laundry had without doubt
Formed huge lumps on her wrists. Liver spots came
Popping up to her elbows. She'd reframe
From wearing short sleeves, or from reaching out
To clasp other unruined hands. About
Her diabetic numbed fingers there came
Enchantments strange. From her kiln sprang people
Not from magic wands darting and dancing
Or spellbinding. Aunt Elsie's hands would scroll
Quizzical brows with a flick and brush pull.
Porcelain clay changed into wonderful things.
We all knew that her hands were beautiful.