Painted Lady

I test your tension
and feel the spring
in your curves.
As always, you pass.
I smooth the spot
where your barb
used to be and
touch you lightly
with my hone to
maintain your edge.

I tighten the vise
to hold you tightly
then wind the silk
up from your ankle
to just below your eye.
I wrap fur round you,
and tickle you with
feathers before daubing
you with varnish.

I blow lightly across
your restrained form,
as in my mind, I cast
you, wet and undulating,
into your element,

I leave you for an hour
bound in your perfection
then release the vise
and place you in my box
between the Blue Charms
and Royal Coachmen.