In which I no longer see my face as full of potential,
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You whole wheat honeysuckle, you. Stiff stem
neck with a sweet turned-tooth. High cheek bout hard to swallow. Dimples-deep in tea tree, shea, aloe and vitamin E, split bottom lip, ripped rib of Adam, go on. Grin too wide. Taste your pumpernickel chin. Tongue-kiss a mirror like it looks like you, thank God. For the laugh lines that gave birth to laugh lines. For giving love at first sight a second and third chance. For the as is and as is. For the hours you spent angling your face into an unfamiliar gospel, I gift you a glossed and golden conceit, go on. End your prayers in your name, too. |
Aris Kian is an inaugural member of Coogslam, 2019’s 4th in the nation collegiate poetry slam team. She is ranked #10 in the 2020 Women of the World Poetry Slam. She is an Emerging Writers Fellow for Writers in the Schools and is pursuing her MFA at the University of Houston.