Abakans

Where mystery fell marching to

our exile, we lifted its mass 

from the ditch to hold 

it behind our coats, our lips, 

to wrap our bodies 

around its form, 

for warmth.

Faces may deceive, but the back 

cannot lie. 

Between us, a single question 

loops a mute refrain.

See? See.

***

Inspired by the work of Magdalena Abakanowicz. The title of this post comes from some of the figures that she created.