All there is

She has rolled over
One leg straight and pointing southwest
The other lying over the first, bent
And with its fine foot
Resting as if alone
Sinking into my mattress

Her rump is slightly parted as she lay there on her belly
With her legs turned to the side
I follow the line of her shapely leg
Into the sphere of her full and rising ass
And it curves abruptly into her back
That back
It is curtained lightly by her hair
As blonde as any fairy

And her profile peaks out
Its other side against my pillow

Her lips are full as to remind me of her breasts
Her bust I hardly see now
But in shadow
And in one sliver of light
That makes its way over the bluff of her body

And through this many ambered vision
Her blue eyes
Break the monochrome
But no
Not so much as to be distracting

And at this moment I wish I could paint

But I would have to paint with liquid light itself
And in three dimensions
And with divine intervention

Like Jackson Pollock pouring from a brush
But into a mold
God’s mold
The paint building and changing tone
As it piled up on itself like poured peach dressing
Filling the mold that was only given form by this paint that wasn’t paint at all

And then when it was done it would be all colors and tones at once
Like her
Glimmering topaz and butterscotch skin
Needing to be kneaded
As curving and round
As life

And begging for more liquid
More life
Than I can give it

I cannot paint
I cannot sculpt
I can only describe this here
At it’s best
Before I turn away
And cannot see it anymore