Her back was tense
as she flicked her fingers
over the page,brushing away
the crumbled remains
of an eraser.

The studio lightsseemed to
be melting her skull;
the heat falling on her in
waves madeher crave sleep.
She hung her head and
let her eyes rest:
only aminute.

Ideas danced between
her eyes like clouds
between themoon
and the ground.
She swam through
a bright hallway
checkered inred and white
There were no doors.

Pine trees revolved on
lazySusans and
white birches curtsied
like shy debutantes
on a sooty carpetof grass.
She gathered these images
close like a quilt
and spread themonto
her blank canvas.

In the kitchen the dishes
were beingwashed.
The underwater sound of
glass on glass
unfastened hereyelids.
She bent and picked up her
pencil from where it had
fallen onthe floor.