Rodin’s “The Kiss”

A twelve-inch copy, bronze, gift from the man I married,   set on mahogany shelves in our cleanest room,   the place I love to dust, fingering some oval frames,   the glass-blown peacock, one latticed ivory comb.   This Thursday morning with lambswool and lemon spray   I tend to my statue, its swells and hollows, its bare limbs —   shoulders and elbows, three knees in relief, four embedded feet.   It is always the last thing I take hold of, pull closer,   weigh in my hands, imagine as… Read more Rodin’s “The Kiss” →