The Pub

Ghiberti’s Creation Panel, Front and Back

Laura McClain

I saw Ghiberti form a god-like face,
And on the hidden back imprint his thumb;
The wax sat lifeless, cracked, crude—all its sum
Could only hint at some forthcoming grace.
And when he broke the bronze from its clay case,
His fingers detailed paradise—before
He purified with heat the lustrous ore,
His maker's face the lesser sculptor chased.
That other sculptor needed no bronze pools—
No chisel but his breath for chasing tools;
A word was metal fit for the world's panels,
And for its sprues—affixed as saving channels
Through which his molten grace could freely run—
He crossed upon its back his only Son.

Laura McClain is a Senior English Writing major from Asheville, NC. While writing this sonnet, she discovered that small gallery corners in Chicago’s Art Institute are most conducive to writing poetry. Now the question of ekphrastic inspiration is a purely economic one: is getting over writer’s block worth the price of a train ticket?