Wocky Jivvy: Poetry and Art "When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold,
Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould;
And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart,
Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, "It's pretty, but is it Art?"
from Rudyard Kipling's The Conundrum of the Workshops

divider line and nothing more

* Poetry: Poems by Claire


Cutter Woman in the dark.
Flash of stainless pressed to flesh;
world gone mad now disappears,
answers live in trusted blade.

Just below the skin it boils;
quickened churning, quickened pain.
Fear. Hard, thudding, blackened fear;
silent shrieking seeks a voice.

Once again, to drown the noise;
once again to wash away.
One cut not enough. Release.
Emptiness is filled with blood.

Cutter Woman in the dark.
Wetted, breathing, kind relief.
Hope found only in the knife,
secret healing in the wound.

Copyright © 1994 Claire A. Schaeffer

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