TWO POEMS

Nose Job I had you carved away. I scoured my face clean. Knocked out, they drilled chiseled, reshaped, hacked out the baby fat, scooped away the little hump of bone. Gone was my face’s last clarion of our connection. I spent days doped thick, script-printed bottles orange and white postured on the nightstand. Capsules, gel. Tablets, chalk. I slipped into vivid, hot-skinned, painkiller dreams of a man who looked like you but wasn’t, who disappeared and dissolved behind corners, who squinted at me, who forgot my name. I dreamt of forgetting you. Years later I look in the mirror...

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