Lead to paper
And eyes to kettle.
It once belonged to him, you know.
Etch the rounded base,
The smooth curve of his cheek-
No! Of the handle
Lead to paper
Eyes to kettle.
Face reflected back
At first my own
Then my own and his
Simultaneously
Like overlaying images
My face is his
And mine at once
My face is mine
I am myself
Because he made me who I am.
It cannot be one face without the other.
So little care paid to
Lead to paper
Too much to see in old possessions
That once belonged to him, you know.
Edge worn down to nothing
Glancing down to find
I drew not a kettle at all
I drew his face in mine.
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