blacker than the white

Breakfast, 1921, Fernand Leger

I turned into stone over that breakfast table
with pebbles within my stomach;
echo of those rubbing stone could be heard by all

you were shaken, no doubt, to silence
but it is a blessing for me
end of my suffering in which I had to listen to your ramblings

now I am a sculpture
a splendor in your drawing room
fiercely protected by scattered warriors of unknown origin

I can not be pushed into a remote corner
or thrown into a pasture where cows will stand near me
with grace, and look at me with reverence

"in a rugged marble, preserve me forever
and remember your follies"