when you first typed this up and showed it to me i loved it, and i still do of course. I love the alliteration in the second line, and the rhyme, 'molded, folded' it just adds such a rhythm to the piece. The last line, as usual for your poems, sums everything up into a sudden stop, the epiphany that can always be found in your work.

Great job!

Well-put!

I love the phrase 'mistaken for clay'; it carries a lot in so little words.

The line 'For when I pick up the pieces all that night' also stuck out at me, as it gave me this curious image of a sad little clay-figure picking up pieces of itself. I'm guessing that at least the last part of that sentence was your intention, but I felt like sharing my interpretation. =P

The last line wraps the poem together nicely.