I wanna sit you down on a stool and chisel you out.
Start at the top, and work my way down.
I’ll be careful around your curves, your edges.
I’ll keep your stature in tact.
I’ll let the scraps fall to the floor,
The pieces of your innocence you insist we believe.
I’ll hold you still, with a firm hand.
I’ll whisper names of deities for you,
I’ll open our windows and let the songs of birds flutter
And echo in your eardrums.
I’ll make sure you aren’t lonely,
Once I leave for the day and put my chisel away.
I’ll gather the pieces that have fallen,
I’ll collect them,
Treasure them,
Bury them,
Remember them.
I just wanna sit you down on a stool and chisel you out.
Start at the top and work your way down.
Let all your falsity fall to the floor,
And watch as your alleged ferocity escapes through the door.  

*March 2010