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Too Much Precision Muttered Here
by Philip F De Pinto
Penelope
It wasn't so much a life drawing class
As lifeless jargon where neither elbow or wrist had free rein
No true falconry to insist the skies otherwise to sweep
But to be hoodwinked into thinking
Such were festooning round
Your form to please tutors merely and suitors
In the absence of your sorcerer seeking sire
While the graphite knits link after link
You Penelope unhitch
Though the model render free of garb
She is more hibited than a leek
Taken the last peel unto her realm
And the design and the aroma
Of the journey are
Confined within
02/20/2015 Posted on 02/20/2015
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
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