Sunday, June 2, 2013

shaving

Shaving
a poem by Troy Cady

Uncorrected eyes strain
to see
through the gripping
fog, sticking
closer to this glass
than shore
that wanes
to sea
that reigns.

Why am I
carried away
with my
self?

A towel cannot
wipe out
the clouds.
What I hold
is weaker than
what I cannot hold
is all around,
in front,
confronting
clarity.

Carry me away
for I can no sooner
clean myself than
claim my self.

Facing this steamed
gray mirror
I will be a faceless name
if you will guide my hand

but speed the day
when I shall be changed
to a nameless face
so I can be my undimmed self
and you can name me
as a newborn
gasping from broken water



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