May Swenson

The Tall Figures of Giacometti

We move by means of our mud bumps.
We bubble as do the dead but more slowly.
 
The products of excruciating purges
we are squeezed out thin hard and dry.
 
If we exude a stench it is petrified sainthood.
Our feet are large crude fused together
 
solid like anvils. Ugly as truth is ugly
we are meant to stand upright a long time
 
and shudder without motion
under the scintillating pins of light
 
that dart between our bodies
of pimpled mud and your eyes.
Other works by May Swenson...



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