The Tilemakers
–Provence 2016
they've been centuries at it
molding fitting roof tiles
random-not-random patterns
passed from père to fils
to père to fils to perfection
the earliest ones so it is said
were formed on a person's thigh
hence the rounding hence
the taper at one end
thigh tiles the palest ones
rounded over the creamy thigh
of the tilemaker's young wife
the burnt orange ones laid hard
on the young man's own August thigh
the ashen ones on the thighs of grandpère
as he surrenders to the woolen blanket
spread on the floor of his wooden cradle-bed
his thigh and the rest of him soon to go to ashes
even while his grey freckled tiles continue
to press against the blanched innocent
the sun-burning youth earth
and body and color this evening
slicked to a high varnish by a hard
but graceful rain darkened riched-up
only to be drained to a bleach
by tomorrow morning's sun