

i see fresh irises, ski slopes,
pancakes, cross hatching,
a jutting larynx ridge.
there is an eyed, faceless being
inside a face with no eyes.
spasms, years pin back a jeering.
clusters of melanin
are moving back
and blending in,
for youth is in a reversal.
dyed payback is all ahead;
winter is nearing an end.
by Missy
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