Calloused hands and dented tools
Scraped the land for sand and clay
Mixed the mud, straightened the frames
Sucked on the bloodied knuckles
Scooped the muck and packed it tight
Bent and tugged the frames aloft
Stacked and wheeled the clay still soft
To a furnace that roared and squealed with rage.
Inferno scorched the softness into brute solidity
Patterns of bright flame, russet, amber, mahogany,
Testify to the firing and the rage they’ve seen
Obscuring every tool mark and drip of sweat from gleaming brow that leaned
To pack each one in metal cubes to build this wall that circles me.
