Jeanette Black and White
Her eyes cast down as if ashamed of style
And beauty, she is captured. She is held
Forever in the falseness. All the while
This image has existed, it’s compelled
Jeanette to be perfection with a full
Dark lip weighed down by knowledge of a truth
She could not possibly have known, the pull
Of future agony, the vile, uncouth
Obscenity of cancer in the brain:
The camera could not see, nor could closed eyes
With love’s brows plucked, each one a perfect stain,
All heedless of malignancy’s surprise.
ThThose shoes don’t point to death. Those shoulders, squared,
ThosThink nothing in the scene will be impaired.