I say your name into the mirror
( rosewater, dogwood, houndstooth )
& slip my fingers through whose
tremor of hair & whose hair is that
in my mouth in your open mouth
o tangle o penny o my once-pretty
face as a child I was hairless
androgynous as a knife no as soap
as a child I licked soap & watched
stubble ruin back up from the part
of the skull where our fur lives
already curled into the shapes we
call boy the mirrors we tremor
through on our way out of mothers
of fathers half-sutured flags I say
your name & finger the slip of our
tongue like a penny condemned
to a life of rust I don’t believe
in boys much less men but if I did
they all would wear their whiskers
as prettily as you boy means anything
that was once pretty or tongueless
a single eyelash shattering into gold
( houndstooth, dogwood, rosewater )
I say your name in the mirror & wait
for my father’s beard to spider across
my face then slide the razor home
through my skin what is pretty in us
is what in us is not our fathers
& whose flags we burn back to ash
o tongue tangle o cream bright rust
yes come sing me back to sleep
tell me what use is my last good face
if not buried to the bone in flowers?