A mask sits beside the
face painted on the mask.
A smile very close is two,
the smile there and the stone face.
A deer whose belly
grazes the fence is two,
the arcing doe and the
dynamic bag of blood,
the still, seized heart.
The hand cranking a lever, and the wheel
beside it, turning at a different speed.
This is me and me beside me,
an oscillating fan,
The doll and what the doll can say
when she is squeezed, or just the
comb of lashes underneath her eye.
Warming in the sun is two,
what you wear and vying for it,
the will to be stirred, and provisions for
when you're not,
the line of sky
and the ensemble cresting
in a deferred stroke,
A splayed hand, rigid,
passing delicately over
the smiling face.
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