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who do i look like now,
silent in the tightly-nerved mouth
quiet, staring at the face in water

anger
as central as the bedchamber,
conduit to the other half of mind
where i tread down love’s needled hillside

what goes in does not come out
thoughts strewn are sheets kicked,
and rage, the dormant companion to
sensitive touch and loveliness

the pleasure of conversation
for us to brood, even still,
expires in white
the whole spirit scalded

who do i look like now,
in the water,
contractions in the neck and jaw
say nothing of grace

and pride is a mouth
that talks only
what a mirror has thought out
and cannot disprove the presence of the face

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