with chestnut doe eyes
warm as my apple pie. Just a set
strawberry cheeks
sitting next to a nose high

as meringue peaks. He’s just
a mouth of cherry lips that slip open
to rows of pearl onion teeth with
a rounded peachy chin fitting him

underneath. Two ears sticking out
like turkey wings. But those ears don’t
hear a thing I say. They’re just two
organs on display, below the thinning

wisps of grey. I stared at his face
with my own when we're alone. I stared
on screens and papers, during long silences
and many capers.  I’ve seen the shiny melon

head every night in my dreams
as I lie in bed. He’s just face
that’s stuck like a cork in the bottle
of Cold Duck.