She's tall, leather-laced top, lycra leotards,
high boots heeled high, wide cheekbones,
tousled hair, snake tattoo on her arm.
I get her legs okay, the knees, emphasise
pointed toes, but it's the face, red fig of a
mouth, pixie ears, huge eyes, radiating lashes.
I'm a serious artist, technique, craft, style, but
Reggie captures her exactly, expression, essence,
we huddle round, stare at it, she's standing
astride a stallion circling a ring, whip flicking
the marquee's ceiling, serpents on her shoulder
writhing through her Medusa hair, light flaring
from the animal's hooves till she's all light,
everything's light; but it isn't, it's a crayon sketch
of a slim girl with a shy smile, standing quietly still.