POEMS
UNDERSTANDING STATUES
The statue might be shaped like the prow of a ship
With people standing up to greet the shore;
The statue might consist of a serpent twined
About human forms; or a man alone might be more
Remarkable, riding a horse. Beneath the beast
The pigeons miss the rain. Let us start there.
On a fair day the pigeons roost on head
And shoulders, pecking at grass that seems to grow
From the hero's ear. Or one may stand on his hand,
Puffed and peerless, if the sculptor turned it so
Ceremoniously, outwards, to the air:
Around a finger the pigeon winds a toe.
Daily the birds ascend the mounted man,
Attending to their business, such as it is:
The sculpture suffers from a weight of wings.
Yet what the concentration of pigeons shows
Is that their understanding of the statue
Must be true, or if
it
is not, who knows?
And yet, such distance lies between this statue
And the flock in occupation there,
The smallest doubt is settled by a stare:
Exposed to every weather, the statue stands
With all the birds in its care, to commemorate
Something grand: a prosperous reign or a war.
Emma Swan
