the statues of you

the statues of you my 
idea of you keeps
casting
in bronze 
and carving
in marble, stay
put. Where you leave
them.

On hillsides in mind, down
glens and up canyons. I wander
in sleep and broad waking light
'til I could go blind,

And still see every feature
and angle of you, wherever my eyes
chance and glance. It's like 

my idea of you 

has a job.

Making legacy scattered 
through my every thought.
I don't mind at all.

Who do you think 
brings in all this marble 
and metal and clay, 
provides all the meadows
and valleys and cliffs
to serve as background?

We all do the part 
we think we ought.