1494 (The Statue of Snow)

Snow swirls down across the slow grey Arno,

blankets the city, stifles its stench, drifts

between arches and softens the square stone

palazzo, where a sculptor  is carving, 

teasing and half-releasing from crystals,  

the muscles, sinews, veins and bones of an

angel; its genitals so true, boys jeer

and mothers cover the eyes of daughters…

Michelangelo fulfils his duty;

satisfies Piero de Medici,  

who takes the glory for Florence made more

lovely – until the thaw, when only whores

coiling their hair by candle-glow, still pause,

to dream of a man awakened from snow.