Beard Weaned

many years ago
I unsubscribed to facial hair
and found my lips
protruding from my face

the relation to my inner life was not found there

I had a thick presence
then, you could find me at mercy anonymous
or simply aroused

then I felt my chin under the hair
took to yanking my beard back along my face line
trying to remember what my father looked like

or my creepy uncle who covered a large mole
with his beard
the beard is face default

not a season of crops
but ground swollen with ice
tromp, swill and sweaty summer
scratching

sometimes I’d braid my beard
or eel out my tongue from its face nest
pizza grease and kisses

now nothing
just acres of flesh mounding
upon itself

some black seeds unfurling