Response to Pablo Neruda’s ‘The Potter’

pablo’s dreams of my nightmare.
a soft touch from a stranger is hard to feel.
love doesn’t hold gravity if you have to fall in it.
my sand is storm.
i’m a violent arrowing wind.
i pierce through wholes, blowing them into pieces.
how then can you make me complete?
wretched man, in the woods of his mind
trying to carve me
but I’m hard. his fantasy couldn’t cut me down.
you’re seeking for my dove, you went into river jordan
but I will come upon you like hell from heaven.
pablo,
my body is not an elevator
to move you up and down my knees, my breasts, my waist.
you’re a potter that cannot shape me
your filthy hands cannot handle my clay.

Tochi