Venus: Figment of My Dreams

Cold, placid, chiseled marble striding a hollowed cone My fingers, as bristling brush, swab finished surface Lifeless mold with a bright, animated plaster glows O'er seamless lines, into silted grooves felt tips roll A mysterious script unscrolls, tingling fingers to prime My tracing digits her supple, graceful texture unseals Sketching, my throbbing pulse her graded essence peels The features of her, soft, delicate face unfold Through her engraved eyes, a sentient strain flows Taut ears sift wind--warm vibrating touches on cold cheeks Tightly-coiffed locks, as tentacles, around my tendrils wrap Just as my hands the features of her bass relief grasp The visceral sculpture from my slumbering mind seeps Once more, a hollow, still life vision clouds my dreams Only the dry, stale plaster to my jaded eyes streams