Both Portraits Poem by Allen Braden
Both Portraits
In his bleary memory she poses
like an immaculate mannequin,
her eyes pimentos, joints frozen
in a gesture he's grown to know.
Loss is like a bluebottle fly
buzzing around in a mug of bourbon.
She'll come back. Any minute,
he keeps telling himself.
One day pours into the next
but he can still see her.
A dark square nailed to the wall.
A portrait taken down for good.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/29/2026 1:30:48 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
