Claim a portion of my clay.
Wire taught and controlled,
Slice a piece for the molding.
Place it damp upon your wheel,
Shape each part of me as you will.
Leave your prints.
Rehydrate cracks,
Play with the form,
Press your influence,
In curves and depressions true.
Create illusions of movement,
Sculpt a figure of fancy to your liking.
Wait for it to set... with warning.

The result will be solid, immovable,
Emotions implied and nothing more.
Fluidity frozen, potential in stasis.
A heart still beating within,
Its pulse a dry tick on the crust.

Or share your clay, fingers in tandem
We can mold worlds, shape lands.
To sculpt some character,
Worthy of some expectation.
Worthy of our hands.

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