By the time I got to her breasts
she was thinking about doughnuts.
I was giving value to the underside
of her left nipple with light stippling
when hunger overtook her,
at least that’s what she said
during the break, casual in her robe,
gobbling the cookies Jen made.
Clark crosshatched the same area
with soft lead, his point dulling
from each mark he left to darken her.
Jen transformed the breasts
into two rounded squares—
very Botero, I thought, but didn’t say.
Her jealousy evoked a three-dimensionality
that made the tits look like they had a life beyond
the chest. I could do this all day, Paul thought
to himself as he used his finger to smudge
a well just where the breast and rib met.
As the model wiped a crumb from her lip,
Ivan admitted he’d been on her thighs
and a data-mining solution for work,
hence the tentative strokes,
just before the timer rang.
And Karen pitched in about troubles
with the feet which most people
rarely bother to depict.
