---

Joseph Brodsky - Galatea Encore
Work rating: Low

As though the mercury`s under its tongue, it won`t
talk. As though with the mercury in its sphincter,
immobile, by a leaf-coated pond
a statue stands white like a blight of winter.
After such snow, there is nothing indeed: the ins
and outs of centuries, pestered heather.
That`s what coming full circle means - 
when your countenance starts to resemble weather,
when Pygmalion`s vanished. And you are free
to cloud your folds, to bare the navel.
Future at last! That is, bleached debris
of a glacier amid the five-lettered "never."
Hence the routine of a goddess, nee
alabaster, that lets roving pupils gorge on
the heart of color and the temperature of the knee.
That`s what it looks like inside a virgin.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.