Poetry

The Edge

The edge can be twisted,

it can be turned, rotated and up-ended,

spun around and spun well,

and yet

 

and yet

the face that you seek,

that ease of smile

and crinkle at the corner of their eyes

can still be on the furthest side.

 

But if you unfold the cube

instead of contorting it

the smiles and crinkles

will naturally rise.

Poetry

Faces in places

Faces glance down on us when we’re not looking.

Knotted mouths with noses in the air, hands

above their heads, pointing, staring,

laughing at how small we are

compared to their lengthy limbs

that could scoop us up if they could move at all.

The ivy beards cover their mouths,

fungi hiding their tears of mirth.