My face is full of ragged edges and
It will never be new—
It is impossible to cover this flawlessness.
My nose is red like Santa's and
My circles are dark
My eyebrows are a barren forest
And my irises are
The sea Unsailable—
Because of the mucky seaweed
My skin is clear but it is cold
And eyeshadow lies dusted on my cheekbones
To be cleaned up.
My eyelashes are large, sweeping brooms
Made of straw and twigs.
My face is a map of godless heathens,
And arctic warmth.
My face is wilderness.