The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes
of a samurai blade on her body
revealing things the eyes feign see.
Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats
between her skin and satin cloak.
Artist; afternoon, craving company
draws her inside-out so innocently,
on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling.
The painter in the corner moans,
he jealous of the afternoons artly
Improving skin, bare olive tones
of subtle pastel, the moment partly lost
to the constellations.