The Statue in the Park
*
she believes her mistake was
unforgiveable the tragedy
that followed unimagined
so now she digs
beneath the
sprawling city for
centuries built upon
itself over and over
again and again she labors
in the deep
buried foundations
tapping in the glow
of her miner’s light
at bricks and stones
discovering
forgotten walls
porticos
opening one silent
room after
another
her tools
are those of
a sculptor
always
she descends in silence
crawls alone through tunnels
from which tree roots
dangle down
lost at the end
of a quest
leaving the architecture
of archeology in her wake
valueless artifacts debris
bones from graves
unearthed from above
sharp bits of glass draw her blood
a toilet cracked
a stained mirror
a soiled mattress
the broken frame of a bed
drips
measure minutes
hide in caverns
and vast empty halls
acclaimed she was
recognized
rising
the fathers selected
her marble statue
to reach out and upward
from the center
of a fountain
in the immense park
at the heart of the city
now she fades
deeper
into obsession
burrowing through
abominations
to find the place
she senses
sleeps forgotten
at the bottom
*
the reflecting pool
circles out longer than
a football field in all directions
from the island at its watery core
lindens guard the perimeter
the shade from their watch like a clock
rotates about the sweep of lawn ending at
the round cobblestone walkway touching
the base of the low retaining wall
kneeling before the water
twelve fountains spray outward from
the pedestal where the marble stands
depicting selene reaching upward
balancing the crescent of the waning moon
from beneath her body
the arms of zeus
lunge up from earth
his eyes fierce frozen
gazing at the face of the goddess
one powerful hand
pulls her shoulder
the other claims her waist
his lower body
morphing from the haunches of a bull
to the hips and thighs of
an armored warrior the cloven hooves
trampling the carpet of horse nettles
from which he ascends
from the angle of the sky
he seems to plead
to the daughter of titans
as if in despair
as if he were not a god
but only a man bound
in rage and desire
begging for a sign
but there is no sign
veins thinly carved into
the marble almost hidden
at first viewing depict
the immortality of love the
weave of the image stretches
translucent from the bovine shanks
through the male torso
onto the floating body
upward with the drift of her arms
to hands fingering the moon
a continuous uninterrupted
tapestry etched delicately into
muscle and stone detailing memories
transforming power
transmuting through fine
art the fires of savagery
into something else entirely
students of mythology marvel
at the technique
so bold so difficult
to accomplish lesser
artists imitate it diminish it
the trustees of the foundation
must have it
protect it
position it
at the center of the shallow pool
far from the visitors who peer
seeing only what might be seen
at a great distance
and when they look down
bored and disappointed
their liquid images distort
in the endless ripples
*
this cannot be
deep in the earth
near the end
of her journey
she is beneath
the park in the great
hollow she has foreseen
water from the shallow pool
seeps into seams in the rocks
drips upon her head
heavy with salts she tastes
what falls stares at where to begin
lifts her hammer chisel balancing
loosens a stone of granite
hanging there since before thought
the rock breaks free tumbles
a short distance and is silent
then the next and the
next after that each in their turn
as she cracks the firmament
all purpose desire destiny
determined to remove
the moon from the sky
when she rises to replace it