and body? perfection
youth's tight edge.
I imagine you
old; ninety.
dimples supine
at rest
deep
in lovely furrows.
cocoa and wool for hair
now.
then,
wisps, snow on
crown and crotch
long limbs
your ears
stretched at gravity's call
an eternal walk to the dirt.
how it brings you nearer
and whiter.
even in brown
and solid
reality
your beautiful face.
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