Reason He Stays

April 20, 2004

Burning and tightening,
the paint-on remedy I use
to make my face smooth.
Stretching and aching,
the repetitious lifts
and pushes and pulls
to fit the image I was
before the birth.
Goo for healthy hair,
glop to erase callouses,
glitter shades of my mask,
all to accentuate the outside.

It isn't my mind,
it isn't my son,
it isn't my wit,
it isn't my serious streak,
and it will never be
the way I write -
your eyes travel my body
and betray where your
devotion will always reside.
And should my body,
my sexuality, my face
ever falter, I know you
won't have the rest
to carry you through.
So I grasp at the slight
and polish it into beauty
for as long as I can.