for Fluffy & The Cat, each of whom know why

If I built a lover from my father's clay, Chiseling a younger version of features Memorized, would I, later, seem A lunatic, too bothered by archaic Idols, worship; a woman in heat for a savior? If I built a lover, he would study Greek, Pluck apple blossoms, handfuls wreathing My hair, and would he be my father? A vague 
Approximation of what I want, what I remember. If I built a lover from my father's clay, I would be caught between what I forget-- How he smelled when he approached--and phrases He repeated--someone will take care of you-- As if he never gave me solitude. 

[Judith Hall, 'XVI', from 'Her Plainsong' in To Put the Mouth to (The National Poetry Series)]