Clay, Verse Concrete Options

[Sekhmet]

Clay

A dark, dank,

brackish, fungal smell of

river banks; and dying things

drifting deep; and sleeping in the

restlessly slow undertow. Rotating

down and around, into the ever flowing

river's vastness. Slowing at last to rest.

Forming a bed of dead, red-brown clay,

so silently - awaiting the potter's hand

to take, initiate and fatefully shape it.

Create in his charcoal furnace, what?

A thoroughly ingenious, curvaceous,

and graceful; sublimely wasteful,

giant terracotta pot.

[Sekhmet]

Hello there Snow & Liz - Thank you both for reading and commenting on my attempt at free verse.
I really have little understanding of how Free verse works, so all suggestions are very welcome.
Without going into boring detail, I have found it impossible to write for several months - any creative thoughts packed their bags and went on holiday - nothing came to mind at all.
The Clay poem arrived when I forced myself to sit at the computer, and write something - anything!
Line changes and endings can always become an option - they just need a little juggling with typeface. This poem started off as one of those huge, pot-bellied, round, Arabian oil jars - but the typeface in which it was written would not transfer to MM. I had to fiddle around with different typefaces to get this rather strange elongated pot.
Thanks for looking in,
Hugs, Leo