The Statue of Brigham Young at South Temple and Main, Salt Lake City

The cupping hand cradles the winds 
that whir like crickets 
beneath the swoop of traffic lamps. 
The legs like stumps of pillars 
tread down Indians and trappers 
on the granite pulpit 
that fastens these highways 
to the vast plain of salt. 
This is the ore that presides 
in the shape of a man: 
the law perches on his lips, 
the gull-cry hovers in his ear, 
the arm reaches down a clean path 
between the priests and moneychangers, 
above which the sky 
holds its breath 
at the astonishing balance.