I Am Not David

i had a wish
for the hands of michaelangelo
for a body of marble
for veins of silver
arteries of gold
i had a dream that i made myself
in the image of the vision that lives in my mind's eye
vision of self
vision of worth

in my sculptor's hand was a knife

to tear out the parts of me that could not be held in the dream

my marble body bled iron
and i looked down to see the faintest of scars
imperfections;
marks where the chisel went a little too deep
a little to the left

but i did not feel pain in the scars
with tears in my eyes
i found the marks with the tips of my fingers
and i felt
free