Your Picture

Brown museum hair, brushed the way they brush it there,
brow lit from inside,
intelligent eyebrows,
a slightly wrinkly nose, a little flat—
brown woman, I want your nose, your
cheekbones of light—I was brown, I got white—
Your large and friendly mouth, half-open
in a half-smile,
like the Dalai Lama once, in a procession,
his smile "What am I doing here?"

But Lucy
your eyes.

So I gave all I had to the poor, standing about
like wildflowers.

Copyright © 2009 Jean Valentine All rights reserved
from Lucy
Sarabande Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission