In    the    art    museum    there    was   a    girl

stark white against cobalt,

eyebrows dark and glaring

cutting her milky skin in angles 

enough to make any man's knees tremble.

The artist assembled her with care

so each passer-by could feel her presence. 

Even when amusing himself

with something across the room

he felt her:

dark hair framing high cheekbones

sheer fabric atop her pallid breast

the rose bud nipple that reverberated sexuality across cool museum floors,
entering the nostrils and lips of a young couple, 

who moved closer together, grazing hands in secret

until the man wandered away and swore under his breath

when,
looking back from the painting 

he saw his partner and felt nothing.