Issue 128, Fall 1993
Narcissus was finally released, though sentenced
by demonic pardon to wander the ends of earth
searching for her. In southern Arizona, he heard
she’d settled nearby, rooted in alkaline soil.
He had a hunch she’d go where beauty was dry.
Ranch owner, local eccentric, she spent
too much time alone by local standards.
She’d turned to art, sculpture, the most
substantial art, taking as her inspiration
the Grand Canyon, not its weathered stone
escarpments, but the space they bring forth.
She made gargoyles from brass, copper, tin —
always in pairs. Their eyes first opened
in a crucible and they hold that heat in
blood pools, each floating an iris, yellow,
surrounding the pupils’ uniform black.