I am a marble woman
Alone
Where the sun does not shine
It is soft and sticky in here
A tunnel deep in my mind.
Flesh hands carved into me
Attached to a blank face
Vaguely male lover
Or maybe killer
I do not know his race.
Chiseled now and then
So my eyes droop just so
Devil’s handiwork
Knocks out the crimson snow
Leaves behind a perfect picture
Similitude of grace
All sorrows raptured
Despair with a face.
One of hell’s finer saints
Roped off from pointed fingers
Well above the holy snickers
They need to use a long pole
To wash my lips with vinegar.
Mausoleum Museum
The dead here on display
For the peepers and gawkers
To pass on with their day.
So that is what I am now
Performance art in stone
What’s left when heaven is eclipsed
As dark angels spread their wings.
A saint with no name
An icon with no shame
It is soft and sticky in here
I have no one else to blame.
