Today-

no everyday- I’ve seen the face of pain-

almost 18 years and I’ve memorized it-

a grimace, a finger that wipes away one reluctant tear,

thin pink lips twisted into wide D’s

eyes clamped shut, little creeks running down raw cheeks,

hands held out, shaking, like a hobo’s can

on 12th street, or suffocating the chest, I’ve seen it

black and white on the first grey page, big

on a billboard along I-95, a short news clip, a sound bite,

wearing 3-D glasses eating a f***ing bucket of “extra-butter” popcorn.

I’ve heard cries on the radio, from the television set,

in the next apartment over, left ear pressed against the plaster,

sound, sight, taste,

sour cherry pits scraping the tongue,

rusty iron nails between your teeth,

a bite of black rotting fruit.

pain’s the same.