The Face

Is there a single thing in nature

that can approach in mystery

the absolute uniqueness of any human face, first, then

its transformation from childhood to old age—

We are surrounded at every instant

by sights that ought to strike the sane

unbenumbed person tongue-tied, mute

with gratitude and terror. However,

there may be three sane people on earth

at any given time: and if

you got the chance to ask them how they do it,

they would not understand.

I think they might just stare at you

with the embarrassment of pity. Maybe smile

the way you do when children suddenly reveal a secret

preoccupation with their origins, careful not to cause them shame,

on the contrary, to evince the great congratulating pleasure

one feels in the presence of a superior talent and intelligence;

or simply as one smiles to greet a friend who’s waking up,

to prove no harm awaits him, you’ve dealt with and banished all harm.

Source: Ill Lit: Selected and New Poems (Oberlin College Press, 1998)