statues cannot have children but pose all day

as though they were one time

a stone worth saving. watch them work. watch them

wait. that’s all they do in all their shapes.

watch us zip and stop, eating lunch, kissing

friends where pigeons strut with paint on

rocks fools dedicate as we

windmills grind our grotesque

grains statues stare like we

once were. perfect. stone. silent. pure and we are always

making more. statues cannot make love or

babies but statues wait and

hold their shape. so we

make more. we replicate