I’m thinking about your face,
and no matter how hard I try…
Face
snowflakes drive through the night air,
I can tell only because the porch light
floods a small, poorly-defined patch…
when I am numb
I crave sensation
your fingers tangling
in my hair, wind…
You’ve seen my brave face,
my game face,
my smile-at-the world face,
my everything-is fine face…
“I don’t believe it,” she said softly.
“You don’t have to.” He shrugged. “But it’s true.” …
you cry, you dry
your face,
you try to work again,
you tell someone…
touch from one hand
not the other…
cliff face
that’s what happens
that doesn’t mean expressionless,
contrary to popular opinion —
it means stone
that cannot be altered
without years of erosion
and my tears might get there
eventually but the rate…
“I’m going to rip my face off.”
“Geez, Joe, why would you do that?”
“Well, you know how the old-time doctors would do the bloodletting thing?”
“I’m afraid of where this is going, Joe…
