The Sculptor and his Daughter

He rests his hand, palm up, on the throat of her neck

with his forefinger nail scraping lightly against

her chin at the peak.

"You are my masterpiece," he proclaims to her,

her eyes lift to his in disbelief

"It’s true, I have made you

from pieces of me

and the holes in your soul will fill

with time and soot

but no bother

What keeps us both whole

is keeping others full of holes.

Because my darling baby

we are lions

hiding in our cage.

We are full of hunger and rage."

she could feel his words

writhing inside her

from her stomach to her heart.

She closed her eyes

as if to cry,

but no lions

have ever shed a tear.