Statue 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. Robert James Berry Back to the Astrophysicist's Tango Partner Speaks