Tell me who posed

So silently 

For the sculptor who gazed

Then chipped away

Everything that was not godlike 

Whose are the eyes

That both blazed with fire

And stared with ennui 

At the state of life

The fates had weaved

Whose the trapezius muscles,

The pecs, the glutes?

The quadriceps, biceps,

The abdominal obliques,

That inspired this art?

It inspires such worship 

Such speechless awe.

Was it take a magic lute

To draw you away 

To dance with me

And leave the sculptor 

To work from memory 

I’m sure one could never forget 

Im sure I wouldn’t 

-jenn