As long as I have you
I will chisel stone into flesh,
eat cucumber slices off your eyes,
toss smooth stones off your back,
peel mud from your face,
return all to earth,
then remove the tissue stays
between your toes.
Who knows anything about living art,
not the marblehead muse of some Caesar
propped on a fluted pillar,
nor the corrupt king
embossed on a bronze medallion
The preservation of static beauty is a noble myth.
I prefer to hold you this moment
in my failing arms,
to be held accountable
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