They were a fast-paced family of wry expressions
that crossed my face each time I tried to laugh —
byzantine rainbows formed by toxic emissions.
My third eye was like a Foucault pendulum
from which depended lips & a chin that swung
their own way according to the gravity
of the situation. I wanted to know whose wishfulness
this was playing across my face. The wishfulness
that comes with guilt? Or lowered expectations?
Was it a clan of dour, repressed judgments?
Or a rapid-fire effort at complex agreements
that might be interpreted to engild or enhalo?