--20 on the left hand side.
And if you could read along with this one, it's in rhyme,
and it's rather dense.
"The Sculpture."
"We stood there nude, embracing, while the sculptor poked
and packed some sort of glop between us,
molding fast all the voids, the gaps,
that lay where we tried most to hold each other close.
Under the merge of your breasts and my chest,
there remained a space above the place our bellies met,
but soon that clay, or plaster of paris,
or state of the art polymer, filled every hollow
which we long to fit.
Then we were told to kiss, hug, hug harder,
and then our heat would help to harden it.
We stood there fused, more ways than lovers know.
We stood there fused, more ways than lovers
know, before the sculptor tore us away,
forced us to look at what had made us so whole."
"The Sculpture."