The summit of this job,
high up the roof,
is to cover the female statue in lead.
1866 she was made,
Marbled, sculpted, rounded, and carved. Pointing to something, I follow your gaze, never can seem to make eye contact with you. A body lost in time and the wreckage. Only copies remain, like so many of Apollo’s boys, you are copy. But something draws us into these copies. Something pulses through…