Friday, June 7, 2013

Day 6: Lobject’s Blanket

Little Hands

It was hard to understand
my mother-in-law adored
the most pitiful piece of blue
glazed clay. Clay like this
gets trashed, not loved on
a nightstand for decades.
Clay like this is cuddled
by a blanket in a bottom
drawer. A baby blanket able
to protect something small
because of what women
weave into it—hot cocoa,
kisses for cuts and scrapes,
prayers for a long childhood.
I see in my son’s blanket
magic in his hands. I see little
hands make clay most valuable.

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