Sculpting Death by Paul Rousseau
She reminds me of
A sculpture I saw somewhere, sometime,
Maybe an urn of tombs
Or a carving
in the cobblestones of Venice,
But now she is a breath in the winds,
Her words like hieroglyphic pictograms
Suspended in the heavens,
Calling out at twilight.
Paul Rousseau (he/him/his) is a semi-retired physician and writer published in sundry literary and medical journals, and nominated for The Best Small Fictions anthology from Sonder Press, 2020. He is a lover of dogs, and is currently in Charleston, South Carolina. He longs to return home to the west.