Wine Jar

We thought he was a fat child, until he fit comfortably in the wine jar. Fed and clothed him in that womb, safe from the reptiles and night. When we broke it, he tumbled out, larger than ever. We hardly recognized him. Feed me, he commanded. The same wailing vessel. We made him piece together the jar with his own need, and when he was done, thin, he fit himself right back in.

Rodney Gomez lives in Brownsville, Texas and works as a transportation planner. He is an MFA candidate at the University of Texas – Pan American. His recent poems appear in Denver Quarterly, Barrow Street, Salt Hill, The Pinch, and other journals.