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.