Unlike the wounded deer in her silent poem
she has long since forgiven the hunter

Endlessly laboring to regain her innocence
she never believed that numbness
would be better than the pain

This perpetual bride knows that silence
is the essence of sound
teasing us out of thought
asking questions never to be answered

Waiting for her demon lover
the fire that burns in her breast
is best understood through the
prism of her silence:
forms meant to be seen
and never heard
that give voice to objects
forever silent and yet
still to be enjoyed

The world that shaped her life
speaks out to us in the face
of aesthetic provocation
The parent of the bride is the artisan herself

The hunted now becomes the huntress