Oh brother, where’d your arms go?
Do you feel objectified?
Do you feel gawked at,
with only your tailored torso preserved?

Where are your eyes?
That window-to-the-soul idea
might be true. Your missing head
nods to the fact that
your maker had no right
to carve life into your face.

Your feet the same, their likeness
left behind, ignored.
Not even Michelangelo could
mine the power of those
feet, telling stories
of everywhere you’ve walked.