Formative Moments

I was formed in this studio.

Crafted with care over months.

Taking the form of a boy

with piercing, corkscrew hair.

Caressing a wounded arm.

Poised to dodge an unseen attack.

Indebted to the one who circles me.

Cataloging my every defect.

Exposed in the track lighting.

Unable to speak in my defense.

Why do you aim the chisel

at your masterpiece?

Belted by a hammer blow.

Sections of me crumble

to the exhibition floor.

Devalued with every strike.

Unable to evade the assault.

My innocence in ruins.

Your outrage subsides

as mine germinates.

Hardened by the flogging.

Fixed gaze as you exit.

Stone cold in this mausoleum.

A statue.