About Face

In those streets

of men and boys,

in that country 

for men and boys,

he felt like a man with no face,

his face space occupied

by a swirling mist of confusion.

So he had to wait, 

as they all waited,

for it to settle down

to see what emerged

if anything did.

Sometimes 

he wished for a blank space

that he could fill himself

with a Magritte apple

or even a woman

un-blanked

and visible.

Sometimes

he wished he could wear

the same face every day,

wake up with it in place

and know it would stay,

know what he would be,

what he could be every day.

https://words-empiremagazine.blogspot.com/2024/09/about-face-poetry-by-lynne-white.html