The sky was a porcelain vat of crimson wine.

Helios under that frequent tombstone, the horizon-

Banished by Nix herself.

She was a graceful silhouette, splayed against

The foreign dusk, inviting lustful plunder

Her sclerenchymatous skeleton adorned with the

Fruit of sin.

'The Dutchman has found an unlikely muse

In the land of silk and cherry blossoms," the highbrows say

Surveying the paint strokes with their commercial eyes.