My Cracked Pot

I noticed the crack first slowly spreading at the outer side of my favorite clay pot where I cook the native dish you used to like.
And layer banana leaves at the bottom, you would request.

I followed the tell-tale signs from afar.

The soup slowly sprouted out like
dewdrops in a spider’s web.

When did the crack show?

It was remiss of me. That cat, a Molly dipped its chubby paw for a taste and stayed.

There’s no more food left.
Only a cracked pot and my
fractured self.



About the Poet:
Evangeline C. Novio is retired after being a Filipino overseas worker (West Africa) for more than 3 decades.


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