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Postmodern Village
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With the Ease of Dew
by Hezekiah Allen Taylor

carvers dig into the softness of limestone with heavy
metal chisels, creating fluidity from barren horizon
and the friction of the flaking warms the chalky medium
until it feels to the touch like an oven
just beginning to heat to temperature

brushes put to work dusting ash from sculptured curves
act as maids the buxom bristles resembling frilly lace
panties as the softness shuffles lightly along
an interior swoop, grouping flakes of limestone
to push off the edge of the known universe
like sacrifice

"they sweat here," some say; "they toil," comment others

glancing up from polishing a raised spiral
the man looks only once at the polaroid
of a fireplace mantle the woman wants him
to build (he's been so far reduced--13 years giving
a face to faith, jesus and mary and saint christopher
and joan of arc--to pour soul into decoration
like jugs of earthy, natural water tainted as wine)

"machine-made," he says to her, but she won't go away
"dead stone," he finishes, turning back to refine
the slight lip that peaks out, imperfect, from
the center of the spin

Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's Version -- Inspiration
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