This Woman's Face is Your Future

I, too, have hated it. Something off about the teeth. Long & long, I've studied on its shape: dumb as domett. Dulsome as Dallas ditchwater. Lantern-head, I've said. Happy horsebag, too bad to bleed. Just wanna iron shut its mouth from hem to hem. Wanna break the nose down to a hawse-hole. Could I gag it out? Once gagged, I mean, with long dry coughs of hair. Could I shutter it with one quick knot to the nape? Snap it off in my hands? Old blister pack, old zit. In my cabin, I'd snag that thing on the first nail. Keep pulling it down & down by the jaw. Yes, & let them shreds hang lovely in the lamps. Only then would I give up awhile. Put on my sea-gown & rise, beautiful on the dark decks.




From Hymn for the Black Terrific (Sarabande Books, 2013). All rights reserved. Reprinted with the permission of the author.