My sculptures of you are not Christian
They kill and spill their adored things
These useless things,
Made of stones and splinters
Still you never said a word
You only watched, half-listening, half-sleeping
Can you, can you be my statue?

I never intended to get your curves perfect
I made it like that on purpose
These pillars are for you
Because you never could stand up straight on your own
You were too afraid to die alone
You asked me if I would do it with you
Even after I wrote a novel for you

I know there will be sadness for you soon
When you realize you can’t change the way I built you
Don’t be brutal, darling,
Don’t be attached
Be my statue
There are hospitals of you on the moon
I’m the one lying on the bed