The Marble Faun

Amy King

 
A tiny face of genius & tolerance
brands itself organic
abrupt vampire of himself, of health,
stoned circle of having risen—
Why the natural inclination to pet,
to be affection with a soul made of bone
on haunches among honeysuckle
and little else to dine upon?
I wasn't able to claim the backs
of my legs, and for that crime, was martyred
for modern day races.
From these trials, I learned to be true
to truths that hugged and lost and slew.
Not what makes my liver stand on end
but how to shake fists against the failings
of insects, of lambs, of castles and the fruits
of shadows that walk with us behind our backs,
swampy corners of decay united.
From old Jewish towns we embrace
the plotted demise and welcome a ghost
in born-again tatters, being all that we know
and the only face that matters.  Except
a child from the lawn who watches, in stone.
We become as ripe as an earth's waiting meat,
better for sculpting to crumble
a rib-eyed dust spelling death out,
names that soften at moon, broken to rise again.
 
Copyright © 2011 by Amy King. Poem and image used by permission of the author and Ana Božičević.

Poems by This Author

Baudelaire in Airports by Amy King
Will my arm be enough to reach you?
The Moon in Your Breath by Amy King
Man acts as an antenna for the sun


Further Reading

Poems about Dogs
from The Dogs
by Joshua Marie Wilkinson
Un Chien Andalou (An Andalusian Dog)
by A. Van Jordan
Deep Lane
by Mark Doty
Flush or Faunus
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
for yam sir: elevated blues
by Abraham Smith
Jogging with Oscar
by Walt McDonald
Lost and Found
by Ron Padgett
Mother Doesn't Want a Dog
by Judith Viorst
Roadside Attractions with the Dogs of America
by Ada Limón
Shooting the Dog
by June Jordan
The Power of the Dog
by Rudyard Kipling
Who Is God? So Asked Our Dog
by Dara Wier
Poets and Pets
A Story About Dying
by Kevin Prufer
for yam sir: elevated blues
by Abraham Smith
My Cat George
by Farrah Field
The Backyard Mermaid
by Matthea Harvey
Who Is God? So Asked Our Dog
by Dara Wier