After Kim Addonizio
I take the blade out of its package,
my hand trembling, though determined
as it rises towards the meringue
on my face, once gelatinous now lathered
and flooding my nostrils, a medicinal mint.
The chemical trails tickle my nose hairs
causing me to stifle back a choking cloud—
then I spray histamine upon the mirror.
I’ve anointed my chin with a slice of blood.
On the vanity sits a roll of toilet paper,
and I tear off small pieces & curses,
dotting my face like the wings of a ladybug.
As the patches saturate to red from white,
I remove & replace the obscenity of my face—
leaving my brain empty & spiraled,
the same as my drained tube of toothpaste.
by Allan M. Jones
"On the Clock"
by Nicholas Shea
