Change as Cartography by *Obsidian-Nightfall Change as Cartography My face is changing. I feel it when pressing fingertips Into my cheekbones And where my bottom jaw Meets the twice pierced ear. It protrudes with clenched teeth – In anger; in awe; in hiding tears in public. The muscle comes and defines The angle of my head when I tilt it. The hair on my top lip darkens. It gives the razor an excuse To know my face. The skin seems younger Stretched across my skeleton, It has now discovered my age: I am twenty. Each morning I shave And note the growth. I'm used to the stench And the feel Of disinfectant and bleach. And bleach on my hands, The scent clings hours after handling it. I'm cleaning knives In the kitchen sink After dicing chicken, A meal I'll split in two. I'm eating more often in bed. My sheet is found with food on it And with stains from the sex we share And the love we made.