How you lie,
So strangely still, unmoved so utterly
Dear yet, but oh a little alien too.
IN A MUSEUM
Here stillness sounds like echoes in a tomb.
The light falls cold upon these antique toys
Whereby men sought to turn the scales of doom:
Jade gods, a ritual of rigid boys.
Warm blood was spent for this unwindowed stone
Tinct with the painted pleasures of the dead;