First line from ‘The Munich Mannequins’ by Sylvia Plath
‘Perfection is terrible, it cannot have children’
Sterile, frustrated, it comes to decay
Michelangelo wept when he found perfection
Took up his hammer to do it away.
None stayed his hand as he lunged at his David
Breaking his heart on that cool summer day
Birthing his talent
The last chip was chipped off
The warm marble block with its dust sweet bouquet.
Confection of lies.
Conception of lies.
He did it away.
Polly Robinson © 1988
Shared with dVerse poets on the Open Link Night – week 63