These poems are selected at random from the current issue of Poetry Monthly magazine. The heat is unremitting. Work demands bronze, gold or silver makeup.
Hot sun brands their bodies, scorches through metallic glow.
They never move. Each statue is an actor, understands that suffering is art whose height withstands all ordinary pain. They cannot go until the final gasps at their tableaux have faded into dusk, blown in the sands. They never move. The kitchen hums and suckles electricity.