commentary to this famous place, its collected fragments of the past,
the myths of history
you
with your perfectly proportioned
body
(not limbs, because you lost your arms
somehow,
and your
head)
winged goddess of victory
sitting at your feet, i feel
the strength of your stride and the wind under your wings
from your breasts
energy centres around your navel and runs down the naked leg
only i blush seeing your perfection
exposed
people walking up and
down the stairs, a steady stream of lost
(faces
displaced
arms)
battles
at your feet, i pick up a feather from your left wing
(a plaster copy of the original right wing in ageless marble)
meet your gaze in the wind
for a fraction of eternity
victory is ours
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