He’s definitely no ordinary clay pot.
In fact, don’t load Him with flowers.
Roses and irises, peonies and asters will fade immediately.
By origin He is a mystery
Roasted in a kiln
To an unnameable, untamable
Never again will it be.
So far He’s kept His peace
Derived His power from
What might have been a lunar beam
Or a star gone astray
On His eyelid.
If you are wise, replace the bewilderment
You are thinking right now with bewarement.
Pack up your posies
Leave Him to
And walk quickly away.