Galatea

“Sleep is a form of absence.” – Terrance Hayes

When her cheeks finally bloomed, she yearned 
to know what the murmuring

was about, which malcontented people 
had assembled in the square, how silver 

tarnished in the cupboard, why the sister 
in her dreams always climbed up the rusting 

ladder of the water tower for those days 
of personal rebellion; she had 

no real use for the man who stared at her 
so, focusing instead on the yew’s

arthritic branches, its bent shoulders
slumping in exhaustion after

another night of bearing the weight
of the sliver of Diana’s moon.

I saw that line from a Terrance Hayes' poem (in the award-winning book, Lighthead)

and it reminded me of thestory of Galatea and Pygmalion.