Book IV: After the Flood
Chapter V: Reaching Out to Smooth and Polish
Casting Plaster
This warm white liquid
in my palm
is too familiar
like the searing smell
of scorched flesh
it takes me back
back
back
to there...
I HATE
In the Workshop
Can I peel
away the pain
while working
on this piece?And can I slice
through time like wax
and find a form
that echoes more
than ugliness?Life could be sculpture...
Surely
we can re-invent our souls
our selves.
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A page from the Poetry and Quilt Square Books
of The Child Abuse Survivor Monument
