The Glassblower

The Glassblower

The day had been predictable for Mr. Potsdam,

he preferred his full name at work.

His stool was still with the blowpipe leaning next to it,

his gloves were still stained from yesterday

and the glass still needed blowing.

 

The molten core was like an eye staring up the pipe,

it spat up some magma which fizzled on the pipe’s sides.

Mr Potsdam’s blows shot down the glassy neck

and stung the core with a cold slap.

 

Mr Potsdam hadn’t felt a woman since she died,

he was 50 now so he was only allowed to stare.

It wasn’t all lust though, his marriage to Mrs Potsdam was short

and always on the edge of divorce,

he still had the time for love.

 

The women from the parish knew him,

they stared at him through the window, he was a dumpy thing.

His stomach poked from his shirt like a mole

but his arms were strong from lifting the glass.

 

Ms Dewburry had her eyes on him now, she was married

but she didn’t care and her husband cared less.

Her lips were green and her hair used to be blonde,

she could get her man.

 

 

Mr Potsdam walked into her room and before

they fucked for the third time that week,

he gave her a present.

 

It was a glass swan made in the factory.

it was the finest thing ever made in that factory.

The wings were silver gilded and the glass was perfect,

the lights in the room danced in it’s bosom.

 

Ms Dewburry preferred diamonds and refused her swan,

so Mr Potsdam refused her bed and took the swan with him.

The next day was nothing new,

Mr Potsdam blew his glass and did his shift.

When the others had left he put the swan in the pipe,

let it sparkle a last time and then burnt it away.

 

There was enough glass left for a crow,

Mr Potsdam felt it more fitting at the time. 

Reviews

[Tony Jordan]

Hi. I enjoyed this. It's a bit like 'kitchen-sink' drama with heart.
The lady seems to be a stereotypical zany with with a realist attitude kinda like a cynical Zooey Deschanel. The guy seems sloth-like but sharp of mind and a pragmatist. Long gotten over womanly wile.
The meeting of the two would be a story I'd like to read.
Perhaps they are work colleagues.
Nice job!

[Hell in a Hip Flask]

Thanks Tony, initially this poem was supposed to draw a parallel between re-writing poems and remoulding and re-purposing glass hence the swan to a crow but it kept coming out as a bit on the nose but I kinda grew to like the dumpy little guy so just rolled with it not sure whether I'll make a set of poems or a short story.
Thanks for the feedback and I'm liking the Deschanel comparison, helping me visualise the character a bit more

[Tony Jordan]

The green lipstick and outgrown blonde is how I'd imagine Zooey to be in her later years.
I'm sorry I missed the main theme
Nothing to do with your writing - just my shallow reading.
I love that you found the little guy likeable dare I say loveable - maybe he's based on a friend or relative?

[Hell in a Hip Flask]

Nah man you're too harsh on yourself, this was a part of a larger collection that was all about the psychology of rewriting it makes more sense as apart of the collection but this one just happened to stand up it's own and the dumpy guy's this old dude who hung round this pub me and my mates used to go to

[...]

I like that he got up and left her. Really enjoyed this and the telling of it. I like especially that he took the glass swan and decided to recycle it.