usefulness of nothing

whilst my hands work
the clay in silent meditation
you notice where the veins
pop up along them

four total, each one
single purposed
for a finger

the wheel spins
but my hands are steady
and only the sound of my breath
breaks the hum of the motor

beneath the dirt
and wetsmooth
my veins bulge
with the cherry of my blood

we can not see this
but we know it is true.

days later as you cut
the carnations to put them
in your new vase
you notice

the empty space
where the water goes