For She Is Art

By Nuala Carten

A cobalt blue streak,
lies in the hollow of her neck
ritually anointing her hallowed pulse.
Droplets of yellow gold,
curve a trail to the allure and warmth
of her unashamed unbridled breast.
Lovett shaded green,
nestles in one unruly curl jealously
guarding her from those who only pine.
A daub of crimson,
on her upheld palm a vivid warning
to the hand wringing praying philistine.
Sunset russet,
gently falls on her brow illuminating
her fixed gaze on wisdom’s prow.
Beads of black,
brands its signature on the pure
canvas of her thigh its work complete.
But hers only beginning.

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