Silversmiths from Kotagede
life was blown gently into the silver, gram by gram binding the emerald, enhancing the ruby eyes shining on each finger hammer and file danced at the stroke of midnight solder hissed in between and light taps to the belly, ‘antique accessories when weighed are worth more than the maker’s finger’
for years they have saved but not a single necklace to drape the scrawny chest the hair has turned silver in the making silent and forgotten by the children of time