Clay Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Clay

Wish could live somewhere
-where pot and pan and plates
-the spoons and the jars, to dishes
-all of them were made of earth, clay

After long I had what
-had learned it as a child
-but then was in clay

My pickle, as supposed
-and I had expected
-turned sweet like a cake

We have it in Iran
- "Garlic of seven years"

In such length of the time,
-vinegar, the sour
-wrestles with the garlic,
-when it is in clay container
-covered and with mud sealed,
-turns it into something soft, sweet
-even the hard skin

But the jar, in my case
-was glass, silicon
-top, metal
-which by time
-had been solved
-in acid…
-and stuck…

Would have not
-faced this pain
-if content
-had been kept
-as before
-in clay