piecing your face back together has been
a magazine and newspaper ad search for
your upper lip, your left eye,
the point of your chin, the shape of your brow
and when i rejoined your features with elmer's glue and slivers of scotch tape,
your delicate paper face was a flat, one-dimensional patchwork
of fragrance, underwear, and diet pill ads
and while staring at your unfamilar face,
i found i had forgotten your ears, the seashell curl of your upper ear
and the stretchy, soft skin of your earlobe, sweet-smelling like your shampoo
(i had forgotten what it felt like to miss you)