The Jar

The cracked Raku jar I sent,
body of clay, pale
as stone, with a blue
stain: mirrored

the brown earth with
its stamp, its footprint,

the blue sky stretching
like a painter's wash
of watercolour,

cracked glaze like
figured skin - salt
wounds, muscles, veins,

standing out with

effort, running under

holding the body together.

Packaged, protected,
sent down the miles
on a wing and a 
prayer: a wish for
both our birth days.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem