Your face tells of tales
Like a veteran.
Spattered residue
From something done to you.
I could have cleaned you right away,
But this pattern hints that
I like to watch the decay
And the inherent struggle
With elbow grease and sponge
Of another day.
(Another day
You’ll be white porcelain canvas
Another day
You’ll hold fresh nourishment in your womb
Another day
You’ll be this
Another day.)