The dealer droned on despite my frown,
then I noticed her, hunched and gravel, kept
on a cluttered shop floor long unswept,
Greek beauty callously marked down.
Suffering divinity looked on me then.
Her iced eyes thawed to sparkling when
I cleansed her brow with religious care
and placed her to reign on my desktop. There
her sunlit face shines coldly bright,
a Mona Lisa in sculpted white,
but under a cloud-crossed moon by night
she dances in waves of milky light,
lunar passions her morning features hide.
Yet the smile dawning over my midnight phrase!
As if love for a mind still trapped inside
devolves like grace on one who prays.
