Imperfection as Perfection
The eyes are white and wide. They look as spare
As Orpheus’s when he lost his wife.
Yet Alexander never knew such bare
And sand-dune meaninglessness in his life.
Perhaps the perfect oval of his face
Veiled slightly by the waves of hair does most
Too cry out flawlessness, a broken case
Completeness. Chin and lower lip are full
To balance out the breadth of features, not
That any element is carved too broad
Or thick. His heaviness is beauty fraught
With calmest force. He aggregates a god.
The broken nose is settled with a brow
Which pulls the eye to swelling like a vow.