I stared at myself for an hour before work
and here at the station I stare at others.
What is mouth, chin, nose, forehead, eye?
How do they assemble themselves in destiny,
poetry which doesn’t have to try?
My features were perfect as the cutest child.
Then my chin receded. My nose went wild.
My eyes twinkle in the silliest way,
my smiling mouth is silly and weak.
Frowning is the way to handsomeness.
My father is handsome. Don’t his features peek
out at all and display themselves in mine?
Did he really love my mother? Or did they
not love? Making me, they then forgot that day?