Matisse, reworked

I Posed For Matisse

He uncoils me like a skein of yarn

Paying out behind beach glass lenses

That scour the remains of the day

For watery sifted light

Leads his hand along like a piper

Through Hamlin’s twisted streets

Spavined fingers confounded by buttons

Hale and nimble once again, fat

Bolt of graphite balanced loosely

Swanning about an empty

Dance floor to strains of a waltz

Played in some distant place

While my skin pools in goose flesh, my

Bobbin spun free, hip, breasts, neck

Described in a dearth of line, God struck mute

As I slip demurely behind the screen.