Still life on a shelf by Karl Koweski

the dull roar of the furnace,
so absolute and implacable,
this must be the sound of all creation.
The lampworker honey spools
molten glass from the crucible within
and births it onto the marver.

Sure hands find form in the formless.
shears sever the cooling placentas.
A breath through the blowpipe
instills a center around which
all else coagulates.
heated tonsils creates an orifice.
A paddle to the bottom imparts balance.

Varying degrees of flame
renders frozen perfection.
Smoky glass shot through with
tendrils of blonde and cerulean.
This vase too immaculate, precious
to know the scent of flowers.
Still life on the shelf.
Terrible in its emptiness and beauty.
Born untouched
and untouchable until death.

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