I have two half faces.

Two half faces.

Do what your Father says,

says the key ring,

and you will be safe.

And the empty snail’s shell?

The moldy bread?

The box of condoms?

The rat poison? The weeping

party mask on the wall?

The glowing orange

on the sideboard?

The Unbreakable brand

comb? The gloves

she forgot in her rush?

Two half faces.

And the mistrust

in my twinkling eyes?

As strong as the impulse

to refuse all

responsibility!

The key ring says:

Do what your Father says

and you will be safe.

But the snail’s shell

echoes the god of joy

(and freedom):

Forget the difference

and you will find identity.