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” →