a model pose

she had invested badly in life
which had returned the favour
two husbands and an army of lovers later
and still no one to call her own
she complained as she maneuvered
awkward as a walrus wearing high heels
her dough like bulk folding
into a pile of cushions as she sat

the study of the human form has its price
as she assassinated the men who had shared her bed
while my pencil plotted her contours
the blue veins marbling through her thighs
she had wrapped around so many men
pulled them into her as she buried their faces
in breasts as huge and as white as freshly laundered pillows
which made me question their survival
imagining them gasping for breath as they struggled
against being sucked into her fatty envelopes

her flattened buttocks textured with dimples
an apron of fat, like a modesty blanket over her groin
my cruel pencil, unrelenting in its honesty
recreated the beauty of her ugly topography
the sweaty clefts where lovers indulged
lapping their tongues through her creases
desperation and the act of physical love
the stupefying need to feel someone else's skin
and my need to examine the consequences