Fine Pottery
This morning I will see the dentist. He will grind away an old filling removing everything but the frame of my molar, making space for a porcelain crown. So I’m awake early and fretting, wondering how many lives were lost for a single tooth having become infected through neglect or medical intervention. I’m not kidding. These thoughts did wake me, along with a strange dream about a ceramicist who put dinosaur bones in her kiln, and used the ash in her glaze. Such fine pottery my mind makes this morning, as I sit peering out my window into the dark, allowing the ticking clock to hypnotize me while holding my fears serenely.
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