I saw them in the garden
mocking love unfolding
swelling with staged
hands, precision molding.
I wondered at their
passionless
stone lips on cold skin -
no agony, no ecstasy,
no signs of giving
in to arduous
contortion,
wracked propriety,
sweat dripping, mind ripping
fall from chastity.
Just statues
white and frozen -
admiring and admired -
erected
by the chosen
stripped, both
of clothes and fire.
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