Remains of Myself

The slab of Botticino Classico has a pale blush. It is almost golden, glowing in the early sun...

He lifts the sheet, revealing a reclining woman. I stroke the stone folds of my nude self.

Later, in the studio, I find a dark burlap sack. Leftover marble chips have been swept into it.

It is as if I have come upon lost remains of myself – how I yearn to keep them.

rose moon –
light caresses
the curved darkness

Hortensia Anderson, Contemporary Haibun Online, 5:3 September 2009.