To the Staring Boy on 43rd and Walnut

your face
is a silent confessional

hair an evolving demarcation of time,
so easily broken by the unkind curve of your brow

Who sowed your eyes with that disapproval?
Is it the same one who put that curve in your nose?

Or is that the nose

of the warmer months not wasted?
a four wheeled slip 
a skidmark of blood you could afford to lose.

the hint of freckles on your cheek, Do they darken in the sun?
the single pimple that clings to your bare chin, painful signal of youth
so heavy in your veins

Have you ever seen your father cry?
Do you volunteer to be designated driver,
preferring the responsibility of love? 
Will you fall asleep tonight beneath an undecorated wall
still unwilling to recognize the uncomfortable darkness
that has been making a broken home of your skull? 
Does your sister know just how much you miss her?

the last person to kiss your dry and downward sloping lips,
Did you beg them to swallow your heart
only to realize you couldn’t get it back?

when you look at me with mahogany altar eyes
What do you see?