A Divided Plane

A Divided Plane
Diana Matisz

I look in the mirror
and chisel my face
into quadrants of four:

Carolina.
hands never still
Slovak and English
quietly falling from lips
kissing the sweet crown
of a newborn's head
her plump cheeks rest
on the bones of my face

Martin.
stoic coal miner
living for family
dying for family
the one of four
I never knew
his nose delineates
my facade

Isabella.
inner steel beneath
soft Scots burr
pale soap-scented skin
the backbone of family
deep-lake blue eyes
those through which
life finds me

Walter.
digger of earth
puffing pipe smoke halos
cigars and pinochle
straight-backed
reserved Englishman
my hesitant mouth
speaks his words never said

These four without whom
my face would be
just a face.

***

Diana Matisz lives in Pittsburgh, PA and writes for the simple joy of it. She's also a casual photograper and her work can be found at Diana's Words, and Life Through Blue Eyes.