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.