Holy Face
Your hideous face compels me to stare, no gawk, at you
As I peruse stalls in Caru-a-ru market.
Every week I search out your emotionless countenance
Wandering through the crowds.
What are you doing here?
Can your lopsided eyes see the wares hawked in my direction?
Or does your left eye double as a mouth?
Your right eye stares at beautiful us
While your mouth slides off your face.
Why are you here?
Your lumpy face like a deflated balloon
Puckers in all the wrong places.
Who would kiss those lips?
Those lips? Are they lips?
I turn my gaze towards anything, rotting fish
Revolted!
Then I search you out next week……
And point! “There he is!”
But where is the woman with Elephantitis?
Mom continues to shop, yet
Human spectacles pique my curiosity.
Can I buy that Face of Horrors?
Still searching…
A lacquered nail presses the crosswalk sign.
I follow the lines of a slender arm up and
Around the curve of a gracious neck.
Pencilled lips smile, a type of smile.
I nod, turning my bushy eyebrows away,
Wondering if make-up could cover my mole.
Hidden under the right foundation I could be a Cover Girl too!
With a Beauty Mark like the Manikin
Gliding across the street, causing a traffic jam.
Oh Precious Face! Where are you?
Your imprinted image transformed the lens of my soul.
Project your gaze upon this suffering servant
Let me reflect: Humility born of scorn
Patience through persecution
Charity under a child’s ogling
Show me your face, if you can stand to look at mine!
Stacy Peterson
July 28, 2012
