Exquisite Corpses


I can see it mangling faces-

the lazy glances of those who

have never read poetry or love letters.


On their way to church

or brunch

or other such passive poses.


Whose eyes open out of habit

but not out of ever having seen

the world being born or ending.


And I can see the wetness

on the eyes of those who have seen

and tried to douse it.