Portraits



I.

Will your emerald	    and ivory	   come alive
			    dance	   before my eyes
pictured without	    bounds

I heap the layers on you    one after	   the other
translucent hues	    to fit	   the mood

			    to bend the inks to animation


II.

You crimson me at noon			   and draw the midnight
					   from my eyes
while my fingers weave you		   from bottle to brush
					   in and out
air to canvas and			   back through air

I recognize me				   in the images you ink
but stare			
					   Confusion

draws my eyebrows

			    down		in assessment
I look for some
		     pattern

				 to cling to

	some me


		     in you