Face, worn with crevasses
eroded by hardship, bears a
week’s growth of beard: bristly,
pragmatic, flecked with grey.
Hands, thick and strong, lie
idle in repose, conserving strength.
Ingrained with dirt and crossed
with scars: used to grafting.
Eyes, resilient but haunted,
hide behind a tired glaze,
often mistaken for drink:
Exposed souls are targeted here.
Lips, stretched taut and silent,
the quiet of graveyards, refuse
to reveal the secret to living
a life that nobody asked for.
Emotions held in check by a
system of ropes and pulleys,
whose frail and ageing operator
looks ready to give up the ghost.


3 thoughts on “Living

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