Celadon Poem by Petra Novakova

An empty cold vessel came to life as
she took her fill of men and they of her
and time stood still and so did she.

Every morn they judged her worth, blessed
she felt when her masters claimed her
and filled her round belly with life.

Then she fell on the marble floor, broken
she lay among shards of murky green blood
suddenly invisible to the eyes of men.

The slaves picked her up piece by piece
from beneath the dragon's golden feet
she writhed in pain and cut them deep.

When she was whole again, though scarred
and old as time itself she wept for them,
a relic of the past, she outlived them all.

Beside the child emperor's ancient throne,
she shall forever sit behind a glass wall,
admired by a whole new world, always alone.