Under a high ceiling, Edmonia looks through
tall arched windows to a courtyard.
The door is bigger than some in barns.
I used to work here, and before that, Queen Victoria’s
favorite artist did. As if she can see her worry, Harriet says,
Miss Cushman trusts you can pay back the rent.
You won’t always be sculpting folderol for tabletops.
You need the courtyard so no one must haul marble
slabs up steps and finished statues back down.
This neighborhood is convenient for tourists to stop in.
People watch you sculpt? Edmonia remembers
her aunts weaving sweetgrass while strangers stared.
Those who wouldn’t be caught spending money
on art back in America want a souvenir and to say:
We found this in Europe, and saw the artist at work.
Yes, some come to stare. I explain that my short hair
makes it easier to brush out plaster dust.
Dresses are dangerous when climbing ladders
to work on tall statues. They don’t listen,
but they buy my art.
Your story might bring patrons, too.
Most gossip isn’t. Harriet laughs.
Come. I’ll show you where to buy marble.