Counterfeits by David Golledge


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A thousand thousand
thousand facsimilies,
forgeries at fifty paces.

A gesture, a glance,
the sleek line of a calf
brings you.

Closer inspection reveals
the faultless faults,
the perfect imperfections.

Stares that stray close
but could not provide the
warmth of those sky locked eyes

They are mere counterfeits,
copies of that original,
platonic ideal.


You are endless.