They are not Venus Statues – a poem by Kim Whysall-Hammond

They are not Venus Statues 

It is her own self
that shape carved and pushed
into polished mammoth bone
to entice a soul from
the other place to this world
soft mounds of flesh
growing and plumping
fecund hopeful happy
bulges where they are supposed to be
for the life burgeoning within

Her eyes dance with delight
as sisters and brothers braid her hair
adorn it with herbs 
scents to lift the mood further
to cleanse, to promote
what they all want
a little one, helpless and soft
they long for the wail of the new

She caresses the small statue
that is giving life and strength
her strength for the birth
and the milk after
strength to the new life
hope for an easy transition
from there to here
a safe birth for both

All is preparation and happiness 
all is her
her own self 
shaped in the bone

Kim Whysall-Hammond is an expert in obsolete telecommunications arcane who believes, against all evidence, that she is a good dancer. She has been published by  Ink, Sweat and Tears, Amaryllis, London Grip and Crannóg amongst others. You can find her at

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