‘Misjudgement’ – Kat Wood

by Kat Wood

She wasn’t born to be a saint,
But modelled to a mind’s ideal
And, with celestial restraint,
Held hostage by ill-founded zeal.

The two had met a single time
But in his memory each day
Her image changed to one sublime,
Venus incarnate, he would say.

And so the girl became a squat
For visionary reveries,
A requisitioned, fertile plot
In which to grow his fantasies.

The artist deified her name,
He fashioned halos for her head,
Her body was a spinning frame
On which he spun Delusion’s thread.

But skeletons, although they hide,
No less exist beneath the skin;
And secret treasures sleep inside:
Life-giving marrow deep within.

The wild imaginings he placed
Before her masked the real prize;
Her earthly virtues fell to waste,
Forsaken by his upturned eyes.

The Poor Print

The Oriel College Newspaper. Run by students, with contributions from the JCR, MCR, SCR, Staff. Current Executive Editors: Chloe Whitehead, Fanxi Liu, Michael Angerer

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