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.