From the side of a tall castle,
The gargoyle keeps vigil on the plaza below.
Its paws expectantly grip the ledge, and
Its bat-like wings rise over its small body,
Waiting to beat down
And take flight.
.
Stone keeps the gargoyle shackled.
Its long neck aches from
Craning down; its face is locked
In a grotesque—awkward expression,
Trapped in an incomplete yawn.
Winds, rolling against the side of the castle,
Pummel its useless, weathered body.
Pigeons rest their wings on the ground
And stupidly peck in between the cobblestones;
They occasionally visit the gargoyle on its ledge,
Flaunting their flexible necks that glow shades of
Emerald and amethyst in the sunlight.
.
Tourists wander distractedly;
They stretch up their arms and angle their phones
Toward the top of the castle.
The gargoyle’s gaze crosses theirs, and falls
Into a little fountain below—made of the same stone.
It sees, through the water’s reflection,
A hideous face framed by
The cobalt sky and slow-moving clouds;
At night, stars flutter and spin in the water,
Mocking—beckoning—with their movement.
.
With claw-like acrylic nails,
A mother points up
And speaks to her children:
“If you two keep scowling,
Your faces will freeze like that.”
The gargoyle wishes paint
Would rain on its unattractive face;
Or that a kind, pitying cloud would
Float down from the heavens and
Obscure it from the masses.
.
Better yet, that a plume of air,
Or the fountain’s water spout
Would dislodge it from its ledge,
Ejecting it high into the sky
Past clouds, planes, and satellites,
Piercing through the atmosphere,
Like a needle through paper.
.
As its stone melts away and the castle
Vanishes from sight, the gargoyle—now a comet—
Would fly wildly through outer space, its body
Bouncing like a pinball against white stars,
Producing sparks as bright as jewels
Visible from Earth.
