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Portrait
Peering
into the dish
At
the magic square of sensitised paper,
I
see that first, feint map of your face appear
With
all the expected features in the proper places.
But
no hint yet of expression. Will it be frown or smile.
I
find myself trying intently to read your mood,
Just
as I might look up to scrutinise
The
fully developed woman entering a room.
1969
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