Madness of the mud
but she doesn’t
sculpt. Passion for digging
into soil rich
in nutrients
for thought, but
she doesn’t garden.
One more contradiction—
and her obsession will be complete.
sculpture
Muse in Relief
I carve you alive
with my own
chiseled lips. I make you
because I was made
by another
nervous dreamer.
Your brows are
what rise when I’m done
with your face.
You smile—
with your flat
stone eyes
and male mouth,
but it’s those brows
you give me
to unwrap myself with
when my own
next sitting draws near.
Night & Day Poems of Amy Nash 