Wrinkles of time
He preferred to photograph
older people because
he thought them more beautiful
saying you can see their lives
and character in the lines
of their faces
Do they droop down
or rise up with a lifetime of laughter
are they wrinkles from sun and earth
a crease between brows
from scholarly concentration
or born of worry and frustration
Why would someone surgically erase
their life story and become
no more than an empty mask
of nothing and nobody
Is that emptiness really beauty
or is it death
masquerading as life
I remember the histories
of my elders written on their cheeks
and around their eyes and mouths
the hills and valleys of their
love ever more expressive
with the years
Just as the gnarly trunk
of a centuries old tree
rises from earth to sun
writing legends of a forest
in the rich rivers of sap
hidden behind its wrinkled bark
Such tales are told by crows’ feet
Face off
We are not supposed to look like
ourselves
whatever we were born with
it was not this year’s fashion
Must be smoother puffier
thinner rounder tighter
lighter sculpted unnatural
expensive looking
Mothers bring their daughters
for some work before puberty
leaves a mark or identity
settles in
Imagine never being able to remember what your
actual original face
looked or felt like
How do you know
if the one in the mirror
is you
or a mirage
What is it masking
this anonymous veil
hiding a you that no longer
is
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