I love your face

I love everything about it

 

 

it has secrets. you did not invent.

they crept up on you. and now.

you care for them.

they are mischievous friends.

 

 

words on a rock.

that is what it is. your face

 

with many parts

 

fierce charcoal black fur

cinnabar red psychiatric mouth

a fig inside a stridulating skull

softly on the move

       departed in others

 

 

your pupils.

someone sent them as spies.

 

the colour of dusky brún

tasting insects with forgetful licks

layered

in greek-linen-sheets

 

 

I love this contradiction.

 

it speaks silently

to the edge of earth

 

reminding me

of tasting sun. of rinsed faces.

 

 

now close your eyelids. i have something to say.