She is dressed for another time.
For black and white. Clean and sharp.
Unlike my chipped tea mug, cupped roughly
in one hand or the other, her jaw rests gently
in both her palms - Hepburn. Briefly,
her spine straightens and slim forearms press together.
Corinthian Columns stood quiet
beneath the soft scroll of her open hands.
And then her fingertips – unfurled leaves
offering up her wide eyes and painted lips –
twitch. She breaks the pose, sips her drink,
and starts to pencil sketch. Naturally, quietly,
all the while she chats about beauty with her friends.
Curious peacocks. Vivid hydrangeas.
Tiny daisies. Prints on vintage dresses.
