Intaglio
How beautiful a piece of art can make
Death seem. The words can lift us up like love,
A suffering love of purity. They shake
Us like a virgin prophetess above
Our passion, this especially if they
Are elevated by the melodies of voice.
When sculptures reach perfection, they can sway
Us upward to the realms where souls rejoice
Instead of mourning. Here a soldier holds
His stabbed companion by his slumping chest,
This handsomeness, here carved in gemlike folds,
The wounded one in bluest shades compressed.
..Sopranos fall in velvet to the floor.
….The drama of their deaths makes spirits soar.