by Kendalle Fiasco, 2007
Don’t grace my face with “pretty,”
Bat a blind lash in memorium
To these long-lost wars
And kiss-pink scars
This battle-fortress stressed and pressed
With guilessness and likelessness.
It makes me feel there’s something worth preserving,
And my face is undeserving.
Tender tongue, tie back thy lashing compliments!
Retreat into that cunning cave
Where blind men wait
Left to anticipate
Our shadows intricate
That they might intimate
At our projectile mysteries and social quandaries.
They are satisfied with ignorance; so may we be.