The Ice Sculpture, by Matthew Sweeney

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Ice Sculpture

If I begged you to, would you hitchhike

to the ice-sculpture factory, where

the drunken cow was just presented,

and the sleeping horse was celebrated.

Ah, those caught animals, where else

would they be paraded? I visualise you

sitting on a black camel, wearing a red

fedora, and a maroon, velvet dress.

 

It would be sunset, rose wine would be

flowing, the monkey would be dancing

to zither music. I picture you laughing,

then directing the singing to include a

hymn to a snail, that small fellow who

brings his home with him – easily shown

in ice. And maybe an encore to a frog

who sits on a plate, waiting to dance.

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