Now is the time
I play the game
of let’s pretend
that you’re all here
to draw my face.
At this moment,
before beginning,
I still have hope that you all
will not
randomly cut off
my head.
my hands.
my feet.
Do you mean to perform
these amputations or
is it fear and lack of skill
that leave my multi-copied, uni-facet self
speechless.
unable to grasp a fork;
helpless to walk away
or even cast an angry,
or tired,
or curious glance
back at you.
You,
all diligent charcoal and eraser
perfecting the sine curve
from my armpit
to my breast
as if
it could
divorce
my breath.
Excellent. Lots of fun.
Dad
Wonderful rythm and flow…