The Model Poem by Ina SchrodersZeeders

So I sit here completely naked and cold
In front of this art class of men young and old
Trying hard not to feel awkward at all
I shiver a bit on the stool that’s too small
Hearing the pencils drawing my curves
I am smiling away what is left of my nerves
Someone is coughing, but no body speaks
A chair’s loudly moved and the door slightly shreeks
Alone with twenty four eyes watching me
From nine till eleven in my nudity
And then thank heaven it is time for their break
I secretly look what it is that they make
Twelve sheets of paper all showing my figure of speech:
Three cubics, two circles and a triangle each…