The human mask
still moves up and down
on my burned face
the voices of trees
occasionally speaking through it
the shoreline flickering on my mouth
corners turned and wrapping around me
but the cliff walls between mine and other minds
have steepened, are leaking hail
kitchenettes popping out of the sea
where we walked together on our broken lenses
across a linoleum sun
tossing eggs on leaves and laughing