Dream of David

I saw the statue of David
and I loved him (from afar).
His towering beauty, refined

features — firm hands, strong
nose, wide eyes that I wondered
would be as pale and bright

as the afternoon sky — inspired
primal want that twisted instinct
(am I predator or prey?).

My eyes traced his marble thigh
as I remembered: his is but a statue;
we were not meant to touch.

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