When she is done making love to the countless poets, painters, sculptors, the wannabe rock stars , the humble jazz musicians, those “avant-garde” theatre performers, & the plethora of photographers with sexual intent. (The numerous images of her naked body captured on various media).   No ivory statue will be erected in her honour Not marble, nor cheap bronze. Clay and Play-Doh will suffice. She gets no token for any of the Inspiration she gave   No appreciation for the art she helped to create. Nothing for her withering beauty Only broken ballads written for her poems dedicated to her destructive sexuality (so raw and vivid men step over their mothers just to Fuck her).   And when they are done with her She is no longer modest. Her intentions misconstrued Her life: ridiculed & examined   (She dances like a nymph in the night)