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.