on capturing a likeness

The shadows show as grassy green

if you do it right,

as surprising as the under-eye-adjacent mustard

or absence of peach

or white or black.

Is it the blood?

-- is it bones, too?

that twist the light just right

at angles and depths.

Assume a nose,

but a nose, a swoop

the lips, lineless,

a smile, honest

the waves we need

in combat with the vibrations we create

make a scowl a judgment,

that smile -- is it honest?

If only, if only absorbing

true colors

was as easy as spangling a cheek

with crimson capillaries

and bringing a chin forward

with robin’s egg blue.