Moving Statues
Radford Skudrna Pop asked me to inventory outside, where the statues stood still, the frost again giving way to spring in the valley… Artichoke finials peaked through, then the Somerset Maiden. I wondered, turning toward St. Francis, how long he’d hold the songbird to his chest, the stone weathered and split near the base. As I tilted his statue, it felt heavy and delicate both, as if the granular skin I held was actually my grandfather’s, his face spotted and cracked from a lifetime outside, so I lined the hand truck with a long box, fastened the bungee cords, and prayed he wouldn’t crumble on the gravel driveway. |
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About the Author:
Radford Skudrna earned his MFA from the University of Maryland, College Park, where he currently teaches. He has served as a Lannan Fellow at the Folger Shakespeare Library, editor for roger and Interpolations, and member of the Honor Society of Phi Kappa Phi. His writing has appeared in Agave Magazine, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, Split Rock Review, The Missing Slate, Bayou Magazine, and Barely South Review.
Radford Skudrna earned his MFA from the University of Maryland, College Park, where he currently teaches. He has served as a Lannan Fellow at the Folger Shakespeare Library, editor for roger and Interpolations, and member of the Honor Society of Phi Kappa Phi. His writing has appeared in Agave Magazine, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, Split Rock Review, The Missing Slate, Bayou Magazine, and Barely South Review.
