I'm a sculptor, not quite sure what
I'm creating or what
the purpose is
All I know is that I have
the raw materials
and they need
shaping, impersonal though
they are at
first
the material needs my
imprint, my effort
my heart and head
It is painful being a sculptor
and it doesn't come easily
I try to avoid
getting down to work
getting my hands dirty
Getting embroiled
And yet in my heart I know
That the result will be worth
So much more than the
Pain of childbirth
Ah but I can procrastinate for GB
Twitter, Amazon galore, then email,
And still I hesitate
To dip a toe in
Even the tomato clock isn’t
Tempting me
It’s so obvious
I have the materials in front of
Me
Cutting and scraping, smoothing and soothing,
moving things around from A to Z
and all I have to do
Is switch on ‘track changes’
And an editing I will go
On the latest draft
Of my words
Ah, but I don’t want to do this
