1.
Our faces hang open.
They beat back the walls.
With noses outward against the air,
We master forward stare:
Straight unflinching pagodas
Flat as Columbus’ earth.
2.
Every room makes room for us,
Our angular bodies insist on this.
In whatever form we assume,
Our secrets cry aloud.
No eye can resist our nakedness,
Vanity is not our sin –
We have never seen ourselves.
3.
We loom as if Greek statues,
Reflecting despite our views;
Dumb-light is not this proud.
We have the pain of outward living:
To grow up with no disguise
No mirror to hide behind.
