Glove face

She wore her face like my favorite, old glove

Brown, leathery and stretchy

with the lines proving her years

like the rings around a tree.

She’d been the product of the vicious cycle of abandoned.

He who is abandoned abandons.                                                          She who abandons, abandons the abandoner within.

She will contiually fight this binary, till the end,

                                                                      and until her face gives in and does the whole raisin in the sun thing

Until, she’s more disgustingly beautiful then she is now

Bustling through the street

Fixing for a new fix and making

quick scances at those who passerby.

She’s always on a mission

with her ear to the streets like she was giving CPR,

but instead,

she’s poured out like PBR

You can see it in her face.

Did I say that, I meant it.

She will move cylindrically forever,

until she’s still

Until she obeys the heavenly impulse

The heavenly umbilical to home:

 

Quiet.

 

For in the beginning

There

Was

Nothing.

–Topher Skold

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