The statues were quickly hidden by weeds. We didn’t know

whether the statues had shrunk or whether the grasses had grown. Only

a large copper hand remained visible, like a terrible benediction,

above the tangle of unsightly shapes. Woodcutters

passed by on the road below - they never turned their heads.

Women no longer slept with their men. We could hear the night

dropping its apples into the river - one by one. And later on

the stars quietly sawing through that raised copper hand.