molten copper into the mold
a hiss
as liquid metal oozes, cools,
hardens, taking on a new shape
serpentine
dulling all around a pair of ruby eyes
and what is it now? what it
shall be – into cold water steaming
cracks porous ice and
sinks to the bottom of the trough
heavy with the remembered intensity of heat
a new shape, neatly
fit
to a thousand crevices
waiting, watching, testing
the waters
(originally appeared in Yes, Poetry)
