Out of the corner Constantine stares
Tireless stone-cut eyes of watching
What does he purvey?
Impeccably preserved coffins vases
Hercules with his broad everything and tiny head
A space fills with people snapping pictures
How many note him alone in his corner?
Does his name catch in the corners of their minds?
Oh ten foot tall head on a pillar! You are here!
They keep you dust free and cool so you will never crumble
They filter your air and fan you as if you still ruled over the known world
With a whole body with a voice
Your sights familiar and artfully arranged this Met keeps masses
interested moving rebuilding endless Byzantiums
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