rokeby venus, an ekphrasis

Child of love holds the self between his hands,

A balancing act of silver-stroked perfection.

It’s got her attention: too busy in her mirrored

Musings to hear the men calling for her

to turn

to be touched on subtle skin

to let herself be ruined those smooth

ridges between

lounging hips. 

Venus has her blockers on.

She’s there for herself, alone in cherub blessing.

Paint’s got the power: unmoving, unchanging,

Giving her the loving. She has no need for you.