Brian Coatney
I am clay,
traversed or planted in
the ordinary way.
Colors vary,
task to task,
or texture on a given day,
but basically,
this is clay.
Even when a potter’s fantasy,
it’s dirt,
but oh so rich I always say.
Never despise it;
it’s the rudiment of Adam,
putting God on display.
Clay is what I am—
as real as toast and jam.


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