By Shakira Croce
It was intended to be an exercise:
eight minutes with pencil and sketch paper,
the time limit imposed
to force focus on the most important
components of design.
My brother drew
with lines so sure.
A muscled figure reaches up
as if to signal a crowd to the floor
ready to break into dance
or to embrace the sky.
He’s another nude save for a wide-brimmed hat
perhaps for the sun
shining off the page. He said,
“Here, why don’t you keep this one.”
All these years later, I still feel the joy
of having him in my room
outstretched silhouette as bold as ever
despite the edges beginning to darken
suspended back against the wall.
Copyright 2019 Croce