Is pottery more practical than fine china
90-year-old bone china with delicate roses
and a luminous glaze
stamped with PK Silesia on the bottom?
Today I harvested ripe figs
from the small rounded fig tree
in the backyard
after the torrential rains had passed.
Soft drops of dew were still clinging
to every leaf—
or should I say
each leaf still clutched at the droplets?
And everything shone with the sheen of silken dew
as the clouds lifted and the mists continued
to hang low over the mountains.
Eight ripe brown turkey figs I held
clutched in my hands
and in the plastic box the blueberries came in.
The thick hand-thrown pottery bowl
at first seemed a sturdier more practical home
than the delicate porcelain vessel
for these recently plucked figs.
Fine china has a time and place
but it is not now.
It must be handled with care
treated with respect
gently and lovingly.
It must be kept in the best cupboard
in a place of honor
proudly displayed.
But bone china is made from bones.
Burnt bones and ashes.
Bone china is stronger than you think.
It is practical.
Although some say my generation
could be the first to see immortality
I am certain that one day I shall die.
Perhaps my children will love me enough
to turn me into a nice serving platter
bedecked with thorny roses
one that is kept in the best cupboard
in a place of honor
and taken out to be present
at all the family gatherings.
Perhaps they will tell stories about me
and fondly reminisce
while passing my vessel—
not empty or forgotten but still useful—
gently and respectfully around the table.
Perhaps I will become that family heirloom
the conversation piece
that is passed down
from generation to generation.
Perhaps I will grace the china cabinet
of my grandchildren’s grandchildren.
And perhaps they will all remember me kindly
as a strong, loving and practical woman
who was useful to her family.
And in a distant day
far removed from now
when some archaeologist turns up
the shards of my funerary platter
and carbon-dates me
will he discover my DNA
and wonder at the depravity of a culture
that surely must have performed human sacrifice?
What will his hypothesis be?
I giggle just thinking of my ultimate joke.
Will I go on display
at some futuristic museum?
Will schoolchildren take tours to see me?
Or will I be put on some shelf
relegated to the backroom
in the I don’t know department?
Smiling, I decide that perhaps china is better
fine bone china
delicate but strong
as a temporary home
for these brown figs
with their delicate rain-washed skin
and sweet juicy flesh
just as these bones which will one day be ash
are a temporary home for my flesh.
Annisa Tangreen