Partial Resemblance

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A doll's hair concealing 
an eggshell skull delicately 
throbbing, within which
maggots in voluptuous unrest 
jostle and shrug. Oh, Eileen, my 
big doll, your gold hair was 
not more sunny than this
human fur, but
your head was
radiant in its emptiness,
a small clean room.

Her warm and rosy mouth
is telling lies—she would
believe them if she could believe: 
her pretty eyes
search out corruption. Oh, Eileen 
how kindly your silence was, and 
what virtue
shone in the opening and shutting of your 
ingenious blindness.

© Denise Levertov