She Who Once Was the
Helmet Maker’s Beautiful Wife.
Sculpture by Auguste Rodin
nude glory, she of uncrannied pelt,
stroked by many, might not know
she’ll sit erelong on stone as
waiting yet to be touched.
muscle melts from bone,
hair, once auburn-splashed on brow,
turns colorless now and dull. Who sees
the girl with rose wine cheeks, the
prime of a daughter turned old?
Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
April 14, 2013