after artwork of the same title by Bouke de Vries
Her porcelain white hands
still serve the tea dead-on four.
Skin that used to be smooth
as china touches the tray,
blue-veined, each line marking
the years made heavy
by his waiting, the weight
of holding up this pot.
She is a steady vessel always
pouring what is measured,
filing cup after cup whilst poised
cool, ornamental yet boiling
on the inside, her heart thumps
with a ready wingbeat
willing this cocoon to crack.
he sips away at her,
his constant need to be refilled
leaves her bone dry.
But sculpted fingers start
to crack, and lose their grip,
when the clay finally slips,
she lets it all fall down,
shatter, scald him as hidden
wings unfurl into later life.
without a word, she flies away
Words: Emily Wilkinson
Emily’s Instagram can be found here.
About the Author
Emily Wilkinson is an artist, writer and wellbeing practitioner based on the Welsh Borders between Shropshire and Powys. As a creative she delivers arts and wellbeing projects and residencies. She has worked with youth groups, schools, the elderly, and those experiencing mental health issues. She also makes her own visual art and writes poetry, flash fiction and articles.
