I made it. The quality of these is uneven, but here they are, available for revision.
On my sixty-seventh birthday
- Tomas Transtromer
One previous face, nose wrinkling at
the gluey smooth smell of candy on my hands
in the schoolyard…
Another, at the supper table,
child’s mouth squinching up in disgust
at the sink,
at the feel of fried egg crust
wrapping itself around my fingers,
coffee grounds between my fingers
in the dishwater.
into the bathroom mirror for hours,
worried that the face was too round,
the nose too big.
Fate’s face, fat and funny,
Fine wrinkles around the eyes, cheeks
Pocked with pimple scars,
Oh smooth face, fair as flour, when did you leave me?