I know I’ve seen her before, dancing
maybe, or clutching a graying
Clark Gable, the tidal wave of her
blondeness fluttering into his mouth
But this is the first time I’ll remember her
and her lips, half open, like she’s been
holding her breath since 1954, the date
on the photograph. How could I
forget her profile jutting into her
reflection, as if it were whispering
“the only thing that can cut
a diamond is another diamond”, or
her loose curls swallowing the edge
of those immaculate eyebrows? I wonder
if the photographer thought the same
when he snapped off three quick shots,
The first click caught her eyes half open
and mouth closed, the second catching stray
wisps of hair as she turned to face him, and
the third photo taken just prior to Grace
sweetly telling him to get her good side, which, I suppose
is all her sides, save the bottom of her feet which
may have been bruised by ridiculous footwear.
It only took three clicks, but he took more anyways.
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