chocolate is a verb

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Tag Archives: face


found poem © j.i. kleinberg ~ Sunday
found poem © j.i. kleinberg


found poem © j.i. kleinberg ~ memories
found poem © j.i. kleinberg


fragments…Howard ~ 6

There was something about his face that wasn’t right, Howard thought. But he so seldom really studied himself in the mirror, how could he be sure? During his morning meetings with the razor, he rarely looked into his own eyes, focused instead on unmasking the patchwork of cheek, jaw, lip.

But now it was his grandfather’s face gazing back at him — Big Dad’s deep crease crossing his forehead, the long nose, the softness under his chin that would turn into jowls. Even the glasses, square dark frames, and the gray-blue eyes, seemed those of the old man. Is this what his mother had seen every time she looked at him — the father whom she had loved and hated, the father who had resented and respected her in equal measure?

Howard pulled off his glasses, put them back on, leaned closer to the mirror. No, it was not his grandfather; it was his own familiar, ordinary face, neither handsome nor ugly. There was a tiny drop of darkening blood right below his ear where the razor had nicked him. As he dabbed it away, he saw what was different: it was the mustache. In his mind’s eye, he saw himself as a man with a mustache. But after Moira had gone he had shaved it. How many months ago? Was it nearly a year already? All those mornings, shaving without thought, without seeing, without recognizing himself.

Turning away from the memory and the mirror, Howard walked slowly out of the bathroom.

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