Northern_Lights_2021

1 First, I was marble, breathless and alone, Both formless and unfeeling—white and cold— Until your fingers traced my figure—stone Without a blemish, yet without a soul— And then you told me I was beautiful, And all the marble melted into flesh, And I was woman, naked and bare-souled, Created there to fall into your bed— So how can you revoke the life you gave When it was your fingers that bade me move, And ask me to be still and stone again, Forever blighted by the mark of love? So Galatea turns again to stone; A ruined sculpture—fractured and alone. Galatea L. J. Marmorstein