Sculptor

I.

Dancing down
The sharp edged tool
Wearing his talent
Like a new thing
A tungsten flame
A bright spark
He’ll build you a golden horse
Of course
But he never starts
What he’s finished

II

The new one
The best one
Is bigger than the rest of us
Falling under his own spell
Whistling through a reed

III

He’ll shake you out of paper
If you don’t stand still
Or chiseled out of summerwood
Leave you upturned in the garden
Growing to seed.

1989

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About Mikaela

I am an artist and writer living in the Perth Hills
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