Exeter’s Creative Writing Society continue to impress as Peter Tse submits yet another beautiful poem…
The Sculptor
My friend crafts ice sculptures,
a daily struggle with science,
with cold irreconcilable facts:
Ice thaws at 0.1 degrees;
actually at anything over zero.
For scientists that’s zero to the power of whatever,
For my friend it’s removed from the arctic room.
I’ve seen him poised in concentration,
beads of sweat falling, despite the cold.
Take that science.
They are gorgeous, glinting in the light,
but to touch them is to ruin them.
It numbs your fingers too.
Once they’re done, served their purpose,
he melts them down himself.
Days to make, moments to finish.
There’s no sign left of his endeavour.
Except for the perfect image in his head,
in the recesses of his memory,
soon to be his sub-conscious.
Where science keeps its distance.
By Peter Tse
exeposedev 