I trace
with trembling fingertip
the naked caligraphy
of your body
my hands
creating you
out of this darkness
so that dawn
finds you
drawn with such
exquisite passion
that it tells
the sun
to look:
'Look! '
And the sun
reaching in the window
can not help but touch
to see if you are real.
'Hands off! '
I warn.
'She's mine! '
And the sun
sulks
as I cover you up
my masterpiece
and finally exhausted I
...fall asleep.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/artist-at-work/
