Andrea Carter

The Pewter Society

What is not even shiny or
rare, we pour

ourselves into the cast
together, hold whatever time there is

with each other, or
sometimes just hold each other—

I still don’t understand tin mixing
copper and lead, ellipses,

a pi value, a kind of whole-
ness. Metal of the dailiness, undecorated,

the glorious-not-this, but pliable, durable,
not pure, not sacred, but

constant like gulls can lift
an ocean in their wings, or fire

burns under a Siberian perma-
frost all year long—

Shape, form, then melt down and
make new, imperfect silver suns, blue

moons to light the foggy fields—