Upon seeing a sculpture of a nest in an art gallery on a hot day
The pelican at the front deskWas enough to make you weep.Beak stuck with violenceIn the breast. Blood welled out the clay, and downTo clotted tongues, more smeared beaks,To red and ready maws. BloodGiven up for blood. Her chicks were slight beneath her bulk.She seemed shrunken by their wants.They were made to make us sob, soBlame …
Upon seeing a sculpture of a nest in an art gallery on a hot day Read More »