Attaching the Head to the Sculpture

Attaching the Head to the Sculpture
(for David Jacobs)

by Kelp

The sculptor held the sculpture’s head
Deftly in her clay-flecked hands.
Cheeks and chin, a globby nose,
Lips the shape of a large pecan.

Brushed-on hair accentuated
By lines from a hobby knife
Abuts the interfering ears
And the cheerless chasmal eyes.

Before the clay has dried too far,
This head must gently be attached.
While it still is malleable,
This head is what the body lacks.

The neck’s the thing that connects the two -
The seat of wisdom to the brawny muscle.
But it’s too thin, too fragile too,
Too terrifyingly breakable.

The head, the head – the marvelous head –
Unsupported by the hollow bod.
When balanced on the fragile neck,
The head begins to slowly nod.

Slowly, imperceptibly,
The heavy head sinks beneath its weight,
And the neck – the fragile neck –
Can no longer hold itself up straight.

Then all at once, it all implodes.
Head follows neck, collapsing inside.
The head is gone -- irretrievably lost.
“My piece – it’s ruined,” the sculptor cries.

And such is the way in art and in life,
The head and the body seem always at odds.
The body consumes, the head is consumed.
And nothing survives of whatever was.