Eigenface by Cheryll (poem) & Janet (art) Snell
Let’s start over.
Trust me, I’m not that big
on accuracy, so if your secrets are lies
are still safe with me.
would not admit that she’s yours
for the taking –but you can
take me among the furs in the coat-
room, on the tablecloth’s pleated spill,
in front of the mirror that cracks
with light to salt open your eyes
catch you off-guard.
agape as a fissure on the skull.
the last word is always smothered.
I don’t usually do this, you say.
both know you never do.