inside an earthen pot that’s been baked over coals are a few things that I love. The pot is sealed but I want you to break it when I tell you. It will be near the end but hopefully I’ll be so far away that you won’t be sad. I’ll be blinking right along with the stars and to tell the truth I won’t be thinking of you.
Here is what’s inside:
one Virgin Mary statue: chipped and cheap, blue and white, yellow hair and bleeding heart.
two smooth round stones: we found them in river. you’re not supposed to take stones, but you wanted to leave a trace that day. one of the stones is black and the other is grey (but looks green when you put it under water).
three dimes. you can’t use them for anything anymore but if you keep them in your pocket they won’t disappear on you. metal is one of those elements that doesn’t want to leave as quickly as the others. it refuses to float up or out. it doesn’t care that there are several layers of atmosphere above our heads.
four robin’s eggs: the same color as Mary’s robes.
I will be gone but these four things will remain in the earthen pot until you smash it. they will tumble out onto the grass and you can pick them up and carry them with you. you can’t do that with me.