©1998 by Robert James Berry
Poetry by L. Deerfield
Original Graphic © 1998 by
STATUE
Robert James Berry
I am carving a statue
Age seated in her backyard
tearing feathers off a live fowl
I concentrate
Climb into her hands
Watch the red wart on her face rising
The rock ridge of her nose
Sharpen for the kill
Blood
but behind her eyes run
other tides coasts
This chisel sights follows
Here the tails of whales are lashing the waters
They shall be my statue.
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