Tuscan Jug Song

Wee Italian jug, warmth of Tuscany surface rife. Hard-glazed terracotta, crudely beautiful work of amber and garden snake greens.  Brother frightened our serpent-fearing Mom with a handful of writhing babies. Mom held up the hot clothes iron. Fair warning. Sister pottery gifts my sill; memories slithering away.

(C) JAM 8Nov2012 (c)

(see my Flash Fiction page for more info on the 50 word prompt: Best Freebie Ever)

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