Picasso, Portrait de Dora Maar 1937

I know this woman with sea green in her cheeks and red in her eyes. Many nights she sends her stare out into the burning air. She has no dreams she never shuts her lids. In her sleeplessness she has learned to hover like a cicada. Her lips are weighed down with white, snowed upon, smiling. And the pearls placed in the center of her eyes contemplate bluer shades.