You seek an urn
I can tell before you even
Head to that part of my shop
And as always
I can’t resist the urge to reach
For your sorrow—or lack thereof
To determine
What kind of pottery
Would suit you best
Terracotta for a lifelong love
Porcelain for a love that was yet new
Raku for a tumultuous union
Pit-fired for an arranged marriage
That somehow proved to be a love match
But no—this is no unexpected loss
The dearly departed died by your hands
I’d offer black raku
But I feel this was no crime of passion
You planned it
The same way I planned the intricate
Carvings of my chattered pieces
And there—my gift never lies
You’re drawn to the gouged slip
As surely as a cat is to catnip
Fortunately for you I am but a potter
And not a detective
As I ring you up, I whisper softly
“Your secret's safe with me”