Her ears have fluttered into wings
To develop a deeper hearing
But otherwise you would mistake her
For a young woman circa 300 BC
From the way her hair is tied back
In a serious bun a ribbon in front
Did this mean virginity in those days
Her life-size head is all I've salvaged
A copy of a copy in cement
But I love to touch her cheek
And rub the dust from her lips
Which somehow have preserved
The first clear secrets
Which she is about to speak
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