by Neil Carpathios
The face was designed to adjust
to loss. We were given these eyelashes
that stitch the lids shut.
turn into butterflies
that nest in the stomach.
When we’re nervous
they wake up and flutter about,
which reminds us
we’re not dead yet.
More from Neil CarpathiosThis Is Not a Poem, Damn It Questions What Happens Under the Overpass Sweetness
Neil Carpathios is the author of three full-length poetry collections: Playground of Flesh (Main Street Rag Press), At the Axis of Imponderables (winner of the Quercus Review Book Award), and the just released Beyond the Bones (FutureCycle Press). He is a professor of English and Coordinator of Creative Writing at Shawnee State University in Portsmouth, Ohio.