Clay: A Poem

Clay

I was handed
a wad of clay
in the shape
of a steering wheel.

It was my job
solely
to make thick
beauty
before I lost it.

I tried to fake it
using chop meat
and ketchup
flour and water
salt and sugar
in damp
desperation.

The grey bag
labeled CLAY
in my peripheral
vision fades
into the dark
balcony.

I couldn't ignore
cries for help
or pleas for mercy.
I ate the clay
which seduced me.

I awoke
with wet face
and dry hands.