So so twins

Sheets of paper
wrinkled after many wine spills
lie on a clean wood floor like Hesse’s Augment
or a stack of papadums
and are blown through the room by the corner fan.

As they age and still seem to last
an order of time much deeper
arrives at the lip, where a woman’s portrait
in paint that still sticks to the wood
is ornamented with gold and pearls.

Her dark eyes avoid the artist’s,
dilated nostrils hint embarrassment and anger,
her nearly hexagonal mouth
that could be stoic or pouting
is certainly purple and mute.

I fall in love with her voice immediately
and remember it
for as long as I last
or seem to last.