"One Line Woman"
She is black and not –
a single curl and curve
of his illustrator’s nib
crosses the recycled page,
begins her motion pictogram;
her ink runs up the pen, through
his well, around the thumb root,
plies the hair maze on his arm,
fastens into each follicle,
each nerve end;
they are conjoined at 180
degrees, a Chinese finger trap,
conversations on the wire,
a schooner weighing anchor;
as his stroke traces her face,
animates her shape, she draws
her ending out of him.
© 2007 Steve Williams
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