ARCHAIC TORSO OF APOLLO

We never knew his head and all the light

that ripened in his fabled eyes. But

his torso still burns like a streetlamp dimmed

in which his gaze, lit long ago,

holds fast and shines. Otherwise the surge

of the breast could not blind you, nor a smile

run through the slight twist of the loins

toward that center where procreation flared.

Otherwise this stone would stand cut off

and cold under the shoulders’ transparent drop

and not glisten like a wild beast’s fur;

and not break forth from all its contours

like a star: for there is no place

that does not see you. You must change your life.