We who drew the long pose in silence now sigh
at the difficulty of capturing with exactitude the line
that welds the foreshortened limbs to the spine.
The adjunct art teacher is timing the class to draw
in now thirty seconds, now twenty, now ten
without our lifting from paper our brush or ink pen
the live model in gestures both precise and raw.
Our pupils dart from the instant that never lingers
to the still shore of viewfinders, in which the angles
of the outside and inside world mingle and dangle
like proof—of what?—on the rods of our fingers