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Image for the poem Collar

Collar

How obedient and malleable to the
Will of the blacksmith metal!
Here she was an ordinary ingot,
Here she became a workpiece

She lay down on an anvil deftly,
Taken in passionately by tongs
As he sculpts crimping a bolt
into her strip with a moan

So she curled like a ring,
As if embracing the world,
Here she was divided into parts,
Immediately she found the rod

Her two eyes gazing upward
With each stroke she is alive
Then into the wetness, and
Immediately steam up to the ceiling!
KristinaX
Written by KristinaX
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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