an edit...an unfinished poem. sorry to leave it hanging.

Hey, everyone... here is an early stage of a poem I just started... thought I'd post it, because I've been slacking in the post-department quite a bit recently. Anyhew...


AN EDIT

This is an edit.
Slicing the first slabs of skin and muscle from my face,
replacing them with something (ironically) finer:
with eyebrows filled in to the eye’s edge,
with freckle or mole just above the corner lip-line,
something to hold up and smile with, as on a popsicle stick–
or better yet, on a tongue-depressor.
You get a face-forward. A no-comment response
to any question that would beg me to tug on stretches
of skin. It all might come up.

There was a path we followed: a sidewalk
under the awnings with raspy swirls of guitar
and buttery chords. Like previous faces,
the heels had been sliced off--
traded for new heels.
Stolletto shoes, for example.
Walking like a camel in a flamingo's dress.

You want to call out my bluff--
"Excuse me, ma'am? Your heels are coming up.
Tearing, I believe." Not only that,
but the sidewalk felt squishy and I left
holes after a fresh re-pavement. Re-cement-ment.

Resentment on my end. Crooking my leg up
to pry off the already-flappy heels
might force a groan or a twitch of the mouth.
You'd see I've traded in my old lips; and
now, I can't even sigh.