The Same Face
In the beginning
everything was tied
to curses and exaltations
that came from our mouths.
We keep our faces still,
this does not come naturally.
We practice making the same face
at the exact same time,
twisting around the mutable strings
of intention that come reeling
now out of our hands and eyes;
the last places we expected.
There are no words to describe this feeling,
a practiced absence of emotion;
how I am always giving in,
how I will accept
and hold inside my mouth
the garnet shaped
grains of glass growing
from your offering palm.
