The Statue
Which statue hides in the marble?
Which arm
holds, in the unknown future, the chisel
that is ready to give birth to it?
Which time uterus, which lust
prepare the unexpected
flowering that comes
amid pains?
Which not-moulded hammer
strikes the sound of pulse
who’s the sleepy night guard
who will open the museum?
Which memory, which descendant
turns his arm toward the statue
who dictates the dead person’s arm
sleeping in the marble?
Which unknown, future hand
will then become chisel
to chisel it?
Manolis Aligizakis 