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.

Saliva pooling,

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

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