Posted by: groundsforsculpture | March 16, 2011

Grounds For Sculpture: A Poem

By Guest Blogger, Joyce Lott

 

Ulli, in fall when I’m most aware of death,
we walked among trees.  Orange and yellow
leaves dropped like an artist dropping his brush.

 

I asked you to take me to see what you love.
I wanted to know why you come here again and again.

You showed me the tail of a whale
dipping in and out of water.  “The sculptor
who made this is blind,” you said.

As we all are, I thought.
But gardens are never blind.

I moved with you and began to feel life
differently – pieces of sculpture
in a well-tended garden.

I imagined appreciating negative space
as well as positive thrust.

You took me to see the bones of a possum
that your favorite sculptor had killed accidentally
and resurrected as art.

We wandered through rescued trees, maples
planted too close together
that formed a pathway.

The sky shone November blue
before November gray.
You and I joked,”Let’s do this when we’re ninety-two.”

Ulli, it wasn’t funny – to have a friend,
to know that art lives and we will not,
that the sculptor creates bones
that, with the proper attention,
will not decay.

 

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Responses

  1. Thank you Joyce. I enjoyed your poem. I hope your art lives on, too.


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