Friday, July 20, 2007
Pitiable attempt at prose poetry but think it's too long. Uhhh, I think have to settle for prose.Faces
You dropped it on your way to work, but not realising the residual visage dripping down your chin, you looked instead to the coffee you’d spilled down your shirt. And your countenance seeped through the grilles unnoticed, to the land of lost faces; lurid pool of body-less features - unclaimed and unretrieved, lest their owners drown in the vast swamp of humiliation. Not all of these faces were misplaced or forcefully taken. Some of these were orphan children, placed in the custody of the Department for Facial Refuse, mostly by Chinese, who called the process “throwing face”. Refusing face, face is simultaneously rejected and reclassified as garbage. Not as simple as discarding a used tissue. Protocol had to be observed, applications for the secession of face duly processed, quality of skin examined (No acne, freckles, scars, genetic defects e.g. cleft lip, forms of mutilation). Successful applicants, accompanied by an DFR officer, would peel their face off – an easy task, for it was never permanently attached to begin with. Once identified by the mole on his right cheek, now man was branded by only viscera and gristle, blood offering liberty.