Poems from my latest assessment

This poem is inspired by a photo of Barbara Hepworth in her studio (no implication that she is any kind of a witch in person!)

The Secrets of Sculpture

‘Come in,’ she said, ‘or go out, all the same to me.’

Gnarled, witchy fingers grasping the frame,

she pursed her lips and smiled.

‘The stone was hewn from such as you,

Join me and live, or die.’

Tiny, like a red-capped finch,

furred as a brown bear,

she was the organic centre of the room.

Gouged from the softest chalk

and weathering all too soon.

I hovered, uncertain at the threshold,

eyes drawn to the door with no handle.

‘Where do we go from here?’ I asked.

Her wrinkled eyes darted to the stone,

‘Back where we came from.’