I am looking at a portrait of Ena;
the artist’s view of Ena;
the artist catching something of Ena
much deeper than facial expression:
but that’s not what the artist painted.
She painted Ena’s quizzical look:
that turn of eye, lift of eyebrow
that only a contrarian produces.
I see Ena’s likeness,
I know something of her mind,
and I’m wondering what was eating her.