Likeness

The girl in the sketchbook has a jaw

I got right in 1998.

Cheekbones. The exact

shadow under the left one.

I found her tonight while moving

someone else's boxes

and felt proud for a while.

Then I sat at the kitchen table

and tried to draw a face I know—

erased the nose six times,

watched the paper go gray and soft

where the bridge should have been.

The old sketchbook open next to it.

Her jaw. His pink smear.

I turned the new one face-down.

Left them both there.