Resemblance

When I see her living
in the mirror I don’t see
the resemblance. Her body
speaks too fast.
When she’s still
it builds a palimpsest
of intentions. In a photograph
her voice is hushed, desires
stand musical notations
on a lined page. There is her
hand that resembles mine.
There is her face, a three-
quarter moon gazing
from a mountain top.