αναφόρ – Carry back

There he stood- the patchy man-

Quarter skin, quarter hair and half tan:

Parts sewn in with electric blue twine,

His stuffed arms strung up to his neck &

His legs tucked into the folds of his back;

The craftsmanship was adjudged just fine.

There he stood- the cool, calm man-

With eyes of crystal ice from a tin can,

And organs refrigerated- liver and heart,

Leaving only his mouth free and warm

And only words escaping the frozen form;

Doubtless, his condition was well told apart.

There he stood- the solid man-

Shoulders levelled to balance the clan:

His hands were hard stone with no flesh

Just right to bear the pressure of loads,

The weighted and colossal, onto sailing boats;

Duty’s a tradition- nothing fashioned afresh.

And there he shall fall- the relentless man-

After ages of standing, according to plan.