Life Class

Does she wonder what they see in her? Geometries of planes and curves, Belly, breasts, jaw-line, ears Faithfully transferred to paper The angles, creases, hollows Mapped as by a cartographer But with perspective's More demanding strictures? Or is their focus greater? Do some purport to draw that inner soul The me in me, she wonders. Brows stencilled with her frown. Her grey eyes hinting shadows Sad memory Her lips tight drawn As the onset of poverty. Some may flail for symbols Reality is all to those who think they know. . Or perhaps she thinks of none of these. Perhaps her mind is dwelling in a nest Or ordinariness: her shopping list, A lover's date tomorrow, Her economic worries, Seeds for her sparrows Old songs echoing through her brain. This hard stool! My bottom's getting sore. A sly glance towards the clock. Jeez. Another hour and more! I look at her and wonder If she actually knows I'm here! And if so, what she sees in me.