In Her Image

Clay pot in hand face smudged with clay She holds the brush makes image all day Mound of river clay gets shape and grows To bosoms, belly, navel and eyebrows! She builds with the method her mind conjures Seen through broken mirrors imagined contours Lending every limb with a part of her own The image will never be she when fully grown! She has to make the goddess youthful ageless With ridges and valleys of resplendent flesh Remake treasures from ashes of her withered assets That bore raging storms yore’s lusty tempests! Her hand sweeps the clay over her troughs and crests Heaping a lavish greed on her thighs and breasts Once finished when the model her eyes would scan Won’t find the goddess but in her image a woman!