Song of the Clay

Clay-keeper,
dust-eater,
shape-shifter,
seek
Simple lines
forbidden mines
untangled vines
speak
languages imaginary
constellations luminary
tongues of apothecaries
release
my craven omniscience
unfulfilled prescience
finger-tip efflorescence
tease
my many wandered souls
numerous misshapen wholes
unholy the fathoms of my holds
mould
me with your worthiness
knead this virginal earthiness
auscultate my genesis
fold
me to your neat design
exhilerate and redefine
identity that is all mine
free
cauterised impurity
flagellatory impunity
a fire-burnt jejeunity
be
fortune-teller
master, seller
jealous-owner-maker
mine.