Love of Your Own Creation

Broken fingers tried to hold her together,
the potter's prized doll.
 
Ants crawling in order scattered by the falling sparks
of human gods.
They do this destruction.
 
Shake the China, push through the ceramic tile of his creation.
 
What he holds closest to his heart is what is most easily taken.
His soul is left intact to mutter the Catholic prayers.
 
Plaster doll, the only woman he loved in this entire world
so fragile and taken aback.
 
Collecting the pieces the human gods grounded with their boots.
Every woman is their misuse.
They would steal even treasures from lonely dragons.
 
When humans fear you and threaten your existence,
you live with things that you give human life.
 
She had his breath, his living statue that was his only rock.
 
His fingers, his fingers are broken
because he knew he could never build her again,
only cripple and sorrow.