Janus-Faced. Ambiguous consequence
Of representing human features,
But arranging communication
To be a burden.
White knuckle. Water bottle spilled.
She stoops to lift a pen.
He comments on how the pen is void,
“Leave it.” But she has a moment
That requires the judgement of ink.
She tortures paper
With a pen void of its crux. He winces
Resounding from invisible letters.
“There,” she says holding the paper
Underneath the light,
“Now doesn’t that look pretty?”
He leans toward the etchings.
“I can’t see anything.”
She shivers in disgust.
“That’s just like you…
Can’t you see
The beautiful poem?”
He staggers backward,
Eyes fixated on the paper.
She crumples the page
And interlocks her fingers
Around the poem
Behind her back.
They both feature
A backward disposition,
But forward in gratitude