At the airport, we all take a shot of aguardiente
because we all had each other’s faces
When I saw my brother I saw my face
I saw my grandmother I saw my face
I saw my aunt I saw my stupid face
On the way up the mountain I saw my face in a pile of trash
I saw my face in the mule’s ass
I saw my lover I saw my face but it was white & weary
I saw my brother again and there was my face;
               my other brother, my other face
I saw my face in the American Apparel ivory chiffon blouse
I brought for this occasion
In the occasion I saw my face, I did

I saw my face in the pankekes the next morning
My face was in the talk of death
My face was in her teeth, the pavement, etc.,
There was a jail cell at the Museo Nacional, I saw my face
A woman flowercunted & crosslegged, my face & my face
Everywhere my face like I didn’t have one
Botero’s asses all my faces
I took down notes when it came to torture
& the inquisition and saw my face in the leather swing set
Clavicle spikerest & eye ruptrest
Faces, I suppose, are a type of torture
to look like one but never be one