Another poem for the road (before the weekend)
The statue clinging over kitchen
back bathed in shadow, face in light
gentle breeze fondles curtains
intention to become like potato peel
the ever presence and
eyes removed
Standing bold you reach
across dimensions of taboo
and dangle your arms
through charged layers of earth
but she knows you’re there
placenta tells tales
Outside smeared in grease
people immovable do shopping
and prepare to fill the hole
dug this morning
while a Christ glides passed
full tilt our kitchen window
Merry making hack, hack
the brat must cut the bonds she tugs at
while her back to us all and fingers
clawing at the bench top
clean swipe
the statue merely hand carved