caroline padgett Countenance

Countenance

by magnolia wilson

Months earlier a black dog drug his sticky pulp face across wood planks Circulating around the room nervelessly, he shook red stains onto my pink blankets Sinew and mandible exposed, the expression “hangdog look” had bled new meaning My mother’s face plastered panic, assessing the wildcat’s action, while the dog hid

Months later I’d push a three-year-old’s face into the dirt Endless tongue slapping babble will lead to this compulsion That, and the importance of feeling strong without ability of being strong My mother’s lips hid a smirk, watching her wildchild’s silent repose

Now, I am enclosed within this supple frame, looking only at you with eyes not just craving your nourishment, but also your nurture Between faces stapled shut, tissue and veins weaving to mend and faces gaping open, anticipating the taste of rich earth

Her face smiles during a moment when we were both friends