Words for the Chisel (collection)/Galatea Again

by Genevieve Taggard

Galatea Again

Let me be marble, marble once again:Go from me slowly, like an ebbing pain,Great mortal feuds of moving flesh and blood:This mouth so bruised, serene again,—and setIn its old passive changelessness, the rudeWild crying face, the frantic eyes—forget,The little human shuddering interlude.

And if you follow and confront me there,O Sons of Men, though you cry out and groanAnd plead with me to take you for my ownAnd clutch my dress as a child, I shall not care,

But only turn on you a marble stareAnd stun you with the quiet gaze of stone.