Visual-lies
PUNCTURE-WOMB
Creating pretty holes and lovely hallways,
making spaces for stained glass panes.
Now sunlit, with vistas of red; soft on edge,
my room with a view.
You’re Holy Grace;
your womb, your waste.
You’re Whole Erased;
your hole, Debased.
A life cycle of digging, scratching;
made in place and left to surface.
All has been to tear away, bi-sect;
and separate from home.
To flee home;
To find home.
And to always be,
On Your Way Home.
(2010)
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