To hear the introduction and Ann’s poem Picasso’s Model – please click on the arrow on the podcast below.

Picasso’s Model

He watches me intently

as though drawing a vase.

I heat my iron once again,

cover the handle with cloth

and continue my labour.

He can’t paint the music

of my iron

as it hisses with the heat

or the movement

of my body

as I dance in my mind.

Once I shared his bed

and curled between these sheets

feeling his hands on my smooth

white breasts,

his body firm against mine

as we shared our passion

into the night.

Who lies in his studio now

or shares his bed?

I don’t ask.

I am just a poor woman.

and have nowhere else to go.