Wednesday, November 23, 2011

To her maker

You have bleached her skin,
rose her from the dead,
peeled away her decay
with your two hands.

You grated away all her cracks and lumps
then polished her to a shadow.
A new shape,
a rubbery clean slab of a thing.

Flawlessly renewed to young
the winter coloured fake.
To touch her is to touch a doll,
a cool stone mantle.

Too new a thing.
Too bright to stay near.
A taut stretched disguise,
each cheek a smooth white egg

and not a hint of blood underneath.
That dug up, stone of a woman
so far from fragile, a maze of fingertips,
all solid throughout.

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