Heaven (in progress)

Here, the furnace is blasting like jet engines in our ears.
This is heaven.
Our dwelling, filled with toxins, tools, sparks, and flame.

Sweat is already beading at my temples.
My blond hair curling frizzy around my face.
I bend over to finish re-lasing my steel toed boots and button up my welding jacket.
Bruce yells, “I need my pour crew ready!”
I smile,
Adrenaline surging through my veins,
Hopping up onto the steal grated walk way, I secure my face shield.
Everyone’s smiling, cheers coming from all around.
Wanders flock in and a crowd is forming a safe distance behind the pit,
The aroma lured them in.

Yes, the smell of molten bronze!
More satisfying than any other,
More invigorating than any romantic experience.
Nothing is sweeter,
Nothing is better.
They all wish they were brave enough to choreograph this dance.
But they stand paralyzed, intoxicated by the scent.

I’m standing my place with my skimmer in hand.
Rotating the spatula-like base in the furnace, to keep it hot cherry red,
getting ready to remove the slag and expose liquid bronze.

Slag colors differently than bronze,
Itself an imperfection,
It rises to the surface and sits like a bruise.
I will be the heroine in this story and bring purity back to life.

Just as the Live and Dead ends lift the crucible from the furnace,
The gawkers let out an exasperated sigh,
My heart is racing,
Smoldering candy for my eyes.
The entire pot busting orange with life.
A color you only experience through photographs,
Even then, a photo still not vibrant enough.
The color holds you mesmerized.
Now we proudly bring our works blood, sweat, and tears to life.
2100 degrees of heat passing before our bodies.

And so,
This is my last pour,
Right until the stars decide to align again,
I'm savoring every ounce.
If I could always dance with fire.
If I could always perfect the imperfections.
But everything has to come to an end some day,
Even bronze has its own impurities,
So life will never find an ideal medium.
And somehow, that is reassuring.
Nothing has perfection.