Our relationship is made of clay.
We sourced it in a curious forest,
wild and waiting to be chosen.
You held the bowl
I scraped it with wood.
You closed the lid
and we walked back to the workshop
that could’ve been our home.

It was like Ghost.
Life really is like the movies
and the movies really are like life.
From behind, you guided my hands,
at the front I pushed and smoothed.
I added water, you centred it.
I pressed inside with a sponge; you pulled it up high.
We created something new.

Now and then your breath
is absent from my neck
in hesitation.
Once in a while,
my arm wipes my furrowed brow.

But we make it
at last;
look at this beautiful vase we threw together,
vowing, inwardly,
unbeknownst to each other,
to try and get this one right.

So I don’t know how it caved in on itself
when lifting it from the wheel.
Though looking back in frenzy
you were absent from behind. 

It hadn’t even entered the kiln.

Now all I have left is a defeated clay form and one question

What happened to the love we were creating?

Whenever the clay blooms we don’t know how it will end
and this workshop will never be our home.
Soon I know I’ll be out again
harvesting wild clay
as the wheel spins for someone else.

Adefela Olowoselu is a poet and journalist from East London. She self-published her first poetry book in 2022, titled You can change your mind. Her poetry stems from the words that weigh on her heart. The extent of her work can be found on her site, somevariables.blog.