Where is Walking Man II walking?
Towards Large Standing Woman, it would seem,
but his gaze aims somewhere much further away,
somewhere remote and perfect, to be attained;
and his forward-leant arm-clenched stride
flow about him like blueish oil
so he feels the constant rub of not-arriving.
She, meanwhile, collects the dew
of eternal morning in her womb,
opening to the moment like a flower of clay.
Bronze chunks thin-slung along wires suffice
for these illusions, and we spectators become
the sunshine among embodiments.