You pass me back my face
all ridges and whorls
removed
I will be a smooth plane
for you to create
once again
Your eyes
not yet dead
not quite
the question
you said would
be asked
when the time came
We sit on the courtyard
coffee cooling too quickly
watching the grass consume
the back yard
listening to our child
as she
slowly becomes
something
neither of us can quite touch
or believe in
a fairy tale
where the princess dies
and flies away
dust particles on a broken breeze
her promise of happy-ever-afters
a whispered after thought
still heard
echoing in our coffee cups
The dog scratches and whines
age creeping up behind her
taking hold of the graying fur
and drawing her
down
You put your fingers to my cheek
press in
and start again
remaking
the man
you remember well
though you
cannot tell
if he is really
still here
