POTTERY

The air which I was breathing

Transformed into a cupped hands, and

I looked for the Potter 

In this pottery of His work 

Whole heaven melted down 

In this bowl of my destiny 

Casting His bearing on me 

Glittering, and overflowing

I was not me, then;

That took pleasure of my ecstasy

I was His unborn child

Floating inside the womb