A Portrait

She stands, defiantly it seems, her pelvic bones in true lordosis, accentuating chiselled pectorals fine rays of sunshine cling to those dividing lines between, thus casting shades of pink in willing flesh, curved with such grace, pulsating to a drummer from beyond, gyrating now, the laws of novel physics dipping to chemistry of ready senses, and glistening dew. I strain with silent eyes to see what has been handed me so freely, an image of the pride of freedom's lust, yes it demands and takes it in the great defiance of society's own gods. For Gina.