Pygmalion

Inch by
Inch and swing
By swing the hammer
Beats the chisel. The rock, veined
Like cheese but hard like cold you cannot
ignore. The rock yields: A face
and arms
And a longing glance
the artist thinks He frees from
its prison. He falls in love
with his
Creation, only
Ignorant that
He exists
Only because she
Created him.

Monemt in the Sun.

Einstein
is a nobody
without
Nineteen
Oh Five.

Mother

When I was younger
I thought I had the best Mommy ever.
That wasn't fair and couldn't be true.
But now I'm older and have context to compare;
I've seen a bunch, now I'm certain I do.