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.