Work Text:
FACESMITH
For 58, Queen Charlotte Street, London
Whose face shall he wear today –
which mask to tailor to his needs like polishing a suit,
pick away the flaws like
brushing specks of dust from fabric,
or gleaming the leather on his loafers?
His own nose and mouth thinly sketched, outlined
with worn, tired good-looking veneer,
Calm-brown eyes, silk-smooth, gentle. Cold. Experienced.
The witty husband; the long-suffering uncle; the dentist
with furrowed brow and twisted lip; the rainmaker of
these dull, dirty London streets. Savior of England.
All faces. He switches them quickly, easy as
blinking, winking, in the mirror, smooth them away
The way he smooths gel through his crown of dark hair.
Whose face should he wear today?
The politician’s, or the man’s?