Box or Jar

How heated the discussion,
as if the shape of disaster mattered.
When thieves shrieked into this world

the vessel became vestigial,
a container of small consequence,
an anonymous coffin for hope.

I could picture a large pithos
burned with images of gods and men,
its clay lid heavy to lift.

I could tell you it was a chest
as small as a thimble, evil tightly packed.
Or why not say bottle, as in genii?

What I remember best: the searing gust,
a deafening rush, and the dread
that our one good thing might be lost.