and in the shop…
“The Problem with Beauty”
pamphlet collection –
Freakishly fierce summer rain
coats the backs of miners lifting slabs,
slicks the drifting dust to milky veins,
splatters boots, cakes trucks, til concentration snaps
and they laugh. This is a frontier forest,
chestnut trees of palest green hiding the scabs
of hacked-out stone. Alpine swifts chorus,
rare wolves and wild boar tear into the night.
But at Carrara’s peak, a gift more gorgeous
than finest bone, as if God had stolen light.
This palest seam, used for David, shielded jealously;
guards running their palms along it as lovers might,
while their sons, clock-watching, tread carelessly.
This craft’s passed down like gold or a secret,
a weight in the heart, shown cautiously.
In the workshop, a replica, fifty tonnes of meekness,
awaits his moment. The director, like a father, pats a limb.
‘I am old, but this boy,’ he says, his face breaking to sweetness,
‘can do anything. I came here for him.’