Man Without a Face

I fell asleep at the wooden desk
and when I woke up startled
in the wintry light—
I can't explain this—
my face stayed in my hands.

I tried to wash my thoughts
in icy water over the sink,
but when I looked up
the mirror had become a blank
white wall, wrinkled and creased.

Now I am a man walking around
without a face to compose,
a skeleton, a stranger to myself,
an aching bone, a nerve exposed.