I want to apologize if I coerced you
into eating dirt when we were kids.
You were young, impressionable
and didn’t those mud bowls need lids?
Clay pots they were, for a minute or two,
though lasting much longer took unreasonable care.
And add too much water before they were dry
and they poured through your hands like they weren’t even there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem