45 Robe You slip it on while, elsewhere, a painter removes one object, then another from each successive sketch. First: arms through sleeves, then the belt knotted close. As first she subtracts the dog beside the kitchen’s open door. Then plates laid carefully on the table, the man seated nearby. Trees outside the window, one by one. Until only the necessary remains in the room made itself by absence. Its cuffs brush your wrists’ tender skin, the hem lifts in the slightest shift of air. ...