SELF-PORTRAIT IN FLINT & LIMESTONE
Today’s face has been
self-assembled from
flint & limestone.
Raw, unsculpted
rocks, today’s face
does not exist for kisses.
It bruises lips & cuts
soft edges without
noticing. Its teeth crackle
like thunderbolts
over lilac skies, feral
minerals from
the ground waiting
to erupt. Today’s face
should not be pitied
but ask yourself
if it wants to be
feared. What are faces
for but to intimidate
& construct,
to chase the magma
running underneath
its translucent veins
of sulfur & revolt?
Pay no mind
to the flecks over
the canvas, the
disruption waiting to spring
forth. Today’s face
holds microscopic galaxies
of sand & varnish
and demands attention.
Its skin may be
coarse, granulated,
rough, but it makes
a portrait that glides over
the unsuspecting
eye. Today’s face
has been turned
into art & geologies
of the ground but still wants
to be seen, still wants
you to ask.
Fran Fernández Arce is a Chilean poet currently living in the intersection between Santiago, Chile, and Suffolk, England. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Pollux Journal, Firmament, and Epoch Press, among others.