Perfect portraits

Perfect portraits are drawn in heaven
Look at the contours of that face
My eyes are aligned
Her nose curves perfectly beneath them
His lips arch below that nose

Perfect portraits reside on earth
Seated on a throne of Gold, clay and garbage
My arms are crossed and to my chin
Her breath in steady
His shoulder race from the fear

Perfect portraits go beneath the earth
Peaceful in its lie, it rests
My fingers twiddle … gently
His hair lay perfect … still
His is in his perfection … still


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