After You'd Gone

Carissa Halston

I got a three-dimensional
tattoo of your face on
my mouth.

The likeness is uncanny.  It’s even to scale.

I thought it would be great
for those lonely hours when your
absence was most acute.

I could upturn your face to mine and
feign ignorance over
what has come to pass.

But it’s not the same.

The tattoo doesn’t know about the standards
of closed-eyed kissing
most days, people think I was born with two heads.