Pot for Grain in a Museum

Immortality
joins life
in its grave.
So are the hands
that smoothed
the curvature of a pot.
A shadow
finding a body
in the sculpture
of an artist.
She unearthed her pyramid,
a sepulcher
for her grain,
to make loaves
over a fire.
Never knowing
her monument
would be her pot
on a column of marble,
her delicate soul
asleep inside.