Majolica Pitcher with Blackberries

"....one day we'll be clay for Fate to make pitchers of..."
--- Hafiz


In family legend a rare and evil pitcher dropped,

smashed, spilled bad air on our future. My guilty

mother bundled infant me like a pink parcel and ran,

never to face the imagined wrath of her in-laws. Every

time they told the story, they swore she had nothing to

fear. But she ran and ran often. The pitcher still

falls. It has always littered the floor, all of us

stepping around those shards. Its lip is my lip, its

handle my left arm.

Its blackberry eyes watch me pour out my stories.