The handmade espresso cup
is satisfying on my lips
and if I wished
I might imagine the touch

of those classical lips
on the woman’s face, painted
on the cup, quickly, just a few lines
with a thinnish brush.

Once, full-frontal, her nose
a straight line to her brow
between eyes which are dabs of black
run into a wash of sea-green.

The other, her face lying down,
looking over the curved hill
of her shoulder, described
with one stroke.