from Iman Budhi Santosa’s “The Faces of Java”

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