Response to Pablo Neruda’s ‘The Potter’

what completes us does
not exist;

our fragments
are never
replaced.

not by the
fullness of
a potter’s
hands

will these brittle
shards be-

come whole.
my knees are
loose. my

breasts
drooping

your thirst
looking
for less than
this earth.

you’re not
the potter
meant
for this clay.

there are
missing hands
wholly welcome,
destined, yet
not this body’s
lure..

leonell echa