Leave Her to Heaven

Caroline Doering, ‘27

I was made with careful hands.

Hours were spent sculpting the features of my face,

the curves of my chest and waist,

the slope of my nose.

Delicate beauty made immortal in bronze

yet so easily tarnished by your wandering touch.

I was an important woman once.

Innovations in science or humanities or art—

my plaque hasn't been cleaned,

not that the details matter

for now my breasts shine gold

worn away by your greedy hand.

It does not matter you say

it is tradition

that my femininity bestows upon you luck

while I bear it like a curse.

And as I am forced to be still under your caress

I wonder

Why Aphrodite bestowed life upon Pygmalion's creation

while I am to stand here

and wait for you to see the humanity

beneath my stony gaze.