Torso

Severed cups of stained marble,

a cold tower the body stretches,

caught under a sparkling mantle.

Born of sea foam, it sketches

discolored patterns up your navel.

Long understated, brittle granite

Were the many chiseling hours,

Carving up the hardened fleshes

Usurped to the edges, made final

Which we used to feel as ours.