I Am a Poorly Thrown Bowl It Couldn’t be So - I Augie Watson senior Nutrition and food science major Poetry I am a poorly thrown bowl. Dropped on a wheel, centered and spun I was ready to be what you needed. It couldn’t be so. Your hands weren’t sure and swift. I could feel they knew what they wanted. They wanted a vessel. A vessel to hold, and to be held by. It couldn’t be so. Spinning faster and taking shape, My walls became taller, uneven. Taller and thinner until you thought I was ready. I was ready to try. Left in the sun to dry, There was time to reflect My shape was there, texture too. Yet my structure was weak I knew how things would end. You didn’t. My rough exterior was glazed. Dazzling sky blues, and deep sea greens reflected off my sides. Almost, could I believe it would work? It couldn’t be so.