Perspective, 
perception, space
between each line.
The subject
bare, a body
in its most poetic form.
Two-minute sketch,
a pose,
little time to see behind
the image.
Like any other person,
a life, nobody truly knows.
Exposed. Angles and 
curves, skin, illustration,
details, expression,
impression
of all that is there, and
what is accounted for. 
Here. Now.
Depiction of a moment,
reality marked
by seconds.
A figure captured
on paper. Briefly.
Deliberate, though 
inconclusive, pencil stroke
softening, straightening,
shading, sorting out
what is on display.
Temporarily.
Art is not 
what is there,
rather what you see.
Time defines authenticity.
Another page, a different pose. 
Two minutes; all you know.

© 2017 j.g. lewis

April is Poetry Month