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@poikaboo.bsky.social Sep 9, 2026, 12:16 PM

A poem for the Bowl with Human Feet, who I feel truly paternal towards

#poem #poetry #poemoftheday #blueskypoets #ekphrastic
#PKBPoetry

Bowl with Human Feet
Predynastic, Late Naqada l–Naqada II
ca. 3700–3450 BCE, Egypt

Poem reads:
Don't worry, Master,
I'm coming! It's just
I don't have knees, and
every step for you, is
five or so toddles for me!
Worse still, when I'm carrying
fruit or (worse again) grain,
I can't look down to
see where I'm going!
I'm perpetually in danger
of tripping on a stone
or a crack you didn't
notice, and when we're on
a slight incline, the apples
or rice or wine falls so
far and fast! I don't
know if you've ever tried
catching a rolling apple
on your head, with no hands,
but it isn't easy!

Sometimes, Mother, I wonder,
did you make me for
labour or love?
Did you intend on
watching me chip my feet
on compact Nile earth
as I tumble after wine
I can't reclaim?
Or did you hope for me
a mantlepiece, a
conversation starter?
You made me "to bring",
but what, to where,
and pray tell,
I don't have to be faster
than the carriage of Ra
for (as stated before)
I do not have knees,
and my head is much larger
than my feet.

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