If Beauty Ever Was For Worse To Wear Poem by Kenna

If Beauty ever was for worse to wear
And kisses not in the taste judged too rash,
Then Beauty's bar would set on Mary Claire's
And kisses tongued would tongue her silken ash.
Her hair unwashed, untamed – a nesting crow –
Her smile gruffs more than pleasing forces
Yet her neck is swan-like smooth and below
Breasts round ripened her inner resources
(A Shakespeare timeless summer) lie exposed
To unnatural inner eyes: only mine.
And in her shine – I compared – a red rose
Or brightened tulip withered humble, brine.

As if the World's at most a desert coast
And she, the shoreline's ghost, walks watered most.