On Your Face, in Oldish Photographs

You are not a person.

Your face is too open and happy,
your eyes too dark
to see ripples, fissures in the iris
but black, fading to amber,
no definition -
Your face was made without edges.

You are not a person -
surely a social device,
plot-bunny,
two-dimensional countenance
caricature of happiness, life

And you give me this joy by osmosis, these days,
And I wish I could keep you until I can find
The sketched construction-lines.