January 18, 2011 Day Twelve

Her arms arc gracefully, symetrically overhead:  two swans' necks or two cobras.  Where hands would be, small loops of pewter.  Her head erect, no features are carved into the face or neck.  Two perfect breasts on a slim torso widen into luscious hips.  Instead of legs a dagger-like blade, rounded at its tip, soft, too soft to kill but fit to plunge into earth, marred by the teeth of my sister's curious dog  (The chewed-up goddess necklace.)