Drawing

The face is still paper.
A line.
A shadow.

The top of a lip
wanting a kiss,

a bridge of nose,
a hint of eye.

The face is manufactured
from stumps,
charcoal,

erasures,
lines
searching for a finish.

It is as though we made love on paper
and molted our shadows.

Published in Bitterroot, Summer 1988

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~ by danielwrasmus on July 4, 2012.

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