Who could know
such impact in earthly actions —
how when shadows
came over Carrara
while darkness lengthened
the depth of the horseshoe quarry
as night dimmed
the veined marble,
carried on throughout
the white streaked hills
of Cararra up over its chalky cliffs,
that the sound
of a bright continuous sea
far below
falling forward
was not so much the sea touching
not the sea touching Cararra
but you walking,
you in the valley
beginning to scale
above cypress, your eyes ripe
as washed olives,
your boots raising
your weight onto cliffs
in Cararra
reaching that
heightened place
where soon a line of fiery light
will strike
your muscled arms
will swing at this
very gold sun
igniting specks in the granite
and the soul
in your chiseled body, knowing
which stone to take.

[first appeared in Blueline, Vol. XXI]

Therése Halscheid