Monday, September 29, 2014



He took a block of marble and carved away the excess
Shaped it into
A woman.

Let’s be honest here—
Pygmalion carved
A very sexy woman.
Astonishingly beautiful, or so
The poem goes,
With a form that
No living woman
Could possess.

Basically, a life-sized Barbie.
After all, doesn’t Barbie
Have an untenable form?
Waist narrower than her head
Ankles too thin to stand
Back-breaking beach ball breasts?
And we call her

And Pygmalion, he
Carved her, and he
Loved her.
His statue.
His sex doll.
His marble Barbie.
He loved her form and face
Pined for her
Didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t work
Just prayed that she would
Be real
Be warm soft hips and breasts and blood and breath
Prayed for nights with her
On woven sheets.

And he got them. He prayed so hard
That the gods gave him his wish:
A living woman
With a form no living woman
Could possess.

But here’s the thing: when Ovid speaks
Of Galatea, Pygmalion’s sculpture
When he describes her sumptuous form
He mentions her swanlike necks
In the plural.

(Or so my Latin teacher says.)

Maybe it’s just a ruse
A literary device
To make the ancient words flow smoothly

Or maybe
Pygmalion carved multiple necks.
After all, the poem did say
“A form no living woman
Could possess.”

Who knows what Galatea
Really looked like?
What matters is
Pygmalion and Ovid and even the gods
Thought she was

Maybe she had tentacles
And multiple heads
A Danish troll-woman or
A hentai monster.
With a beautiful form no living woman
Could possess.

Pygmalion may have
Had a few kinks, but
All we know for certain is that
He created something