LUCES

.

Words are chisels
Carve me down
Dull as spoons
‘til flung with force
Then,
they roughly gouge

.
Oh, carve me!
Carve me!
Knick
and form
and scar me!
Whittle my bones
‘till I match your dream!
Shave my flaws
‘till I’m dust in the breeze!

.