You were a twenty foot roll of
eighty pound white linen stock-
three feet wide!
I cut you
Your blank slate was a quarry
in love with venery.
You rang bells
with your white silence. You held needles
in the doctor’s office of my mind.
I lined up the lines of your face
and hung you on my bedroom wall
with twelve thumbtacks.
I took nine pens, divided
a thirty inch ruler in thirds,
trimmed you up
with x2 – 30/60/90 triangles.
I searched for your cleanest edge.
I waited for you to stop talking before
I began to listen.
For six hours, I stood on kitchen chairs
dressing your beautiful white face
in clean black lines.