Wish I was born at a time when I can meet Eva Hesse,
there you came along in dark grace.
I spin your threads,
inhale your red,
watch the glow in anger toward a betrayed father of my own.
They are large,
sit on heavy stumps,
we laugh as the marble spits blood.
Curl up I did,
"never let anybody put you down," you said.
A girl can swallow the pain, but she should never lower her head.
I, too, am a sculptor,
so they call us.