316 ~ Works Poem by stan pelfrey

'What is your soul? '
you ask.
'It's David's Michelangelo! '
I reply.

The statue of the maker,
holds the maker to the statue.
Your works inside,
inside works you.

Bathe my hair in blood,
drain my helpless memory,
steer my driving thoughts
away from what has left me.

Off with lights! Off with fans!
We'll need no more of these hands.

Prop up my memory,
concentrate my powers,
hold me up to
my finest hour.