Render Me

We used to take turns sketching each other

Laid out naked against the sheets

Two self-conscious models

Two self-conscious artists

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My clumsy hands

Could never capture your beauty

Beneath the pressed graphite lines

You always become a smug rectangle

With an expressionless face

How to convey

Your haunting eyes

The tenderness of lips slightly parted

The shadows cast on your angled jaw

My pencil understands nothing

Of love or substance

Renders only careless half-shapes

Incomplete depressions

On rough white sheets

Perhaps its the artist that’s incomplete

All I can draw are your beautiful hands

And your sex

I wonder what that says

About the nature of my mind?

=

Your sketches are graceful

Sweeping, whimsical

As if you’d commissioned the wind

You capture something ethereal

Beauty unformed

Unfettered by angle or contour

Suggestions of sensuality

I love the dangerous dip of the waist

Your curvaceous imagination

Hands playfully uncertain

I love the way you render me

On paper

Not because I am beautiful

By your sloppy hand

But because I am adored

=

(I didn’t have any other sketches that I have done on the computer, I really don’t draw very often so)

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