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Deliberately Faceless

QU Montage

By Justin Goldsmith

My hands are dry
I pick up an empty brown bottle
And trickle sand down the insides of my fingers
Guiding the grains into the glass 
Until the bottle is full to the brim
I pour it out and do it again

There are children everywhere
I used to be all of them

Upstairs I am sealed inside of a crawl space
Within it, the laughs have eroded
And linger as hot air
Breathing onto the wax shavings
That a young hand I once knew
Dragged into the shape of a fish bowl

I am trapped here
I am deliberately faceless
Put together by a careful hand
My body is built from blotches of colors
The rest of me is elsewhere
Searching for a circle of brown paper
That has been dipped in water 
And plastered to the arm of a wooden chair

I’m sitting on the white carpet next to the glass door
I roll a flat metal clown back and forth on the rusted rods
I wait for the golden ball in the pinball machine
Its paint is nearly gone

I float outside in the cool air
Mixing with go kart exhaust
And the vapor of a waterfall splashing over a plastic cave
All of the other kids take me into their nostrils
And I escape through their mouths
While they bite their blue-colored ice cream
They don’t feel me now
But they will miss me one day