PROFILE Converging at the corner of the eye, lines, faint and deep, suggest a point to sight: time gathering at that periphery wholly individual yet not quite— because I look on you and you on me secretly (or with the vain permission in the others feigning sleep or study), desiring to see beyond possession. But those lines diverge, too—an argument against the single focus, experience fanning out its wrinkles in a dumb show. So our two-faced love seems doubly intent, presenting, as its oblique evidence, the side we view, the other we might know.
Posted on: Fri, 18 Oct 2013 01:03:55 +0000
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