Vessel Just to look at smooth clay curves makes me thirsty I know the healing warmth can bring. Like hot tears, after a guilty outburst. Or summoning sunlit eyelids to brave the dull, human illumination of a surgery room. Hands awoke one morning to swirl this shape, to lay liquid inside me to keep my throat from more apologies to keep me bright in the cavern of my maker’s sun, to let me rupture— when ready into all my finest pieces.
Cassy Dorff lives in Nashville, Tennessee and teaches courses about politics, data science and writing as an assistant professor of Political Science. Cassy’s poetry is published at Terrain.org and Rust + Moth; academic research publications can be found at the Journal of Politics, Journal of Peace Research and other outlets.