Margot Myers: Hommage

You should have told me then, that you were famous.
I would have answered more of your requests
or turned up that evening as I’d promised,
for supper at your studio, with guests.

Instead, I always saw you as a loser,
those lumpen thumb-pots, goitred jars. A joke
posing in your artisanal trousers.
Today I read your obit. Now I’m woke

to your ‘lustrous, tactile, salt-glaze slip-ware
sgraffitoed with vitality and bliss’.
A gallery in France! Might take a trip there.
And rooting round the attic, I’ve found this:

the odd-shaped bowl you made me. Plainly said,
it must be worth some money, now you’re dead.