Nancy Davenport, October 2013

Visage Traveler

 

I long to be small, so small
that I can walk over the
contours of your face.

I want to travel over the
corners of your lips, and
go to the very center,

and settle there.

I want to be able to climb
your nose so I can
watch your expression
change,

I would sit in that oval tub
between your nose and
your lips

and
        watch
                    you
                            smile.

Kiss the roots of the hair that grows
from the bones of your tawny
chin.
Carefully walk through your eyelashes
and get a really close look at the color of your eyes,

finally.

You wouldn’t even know

that I was there.

 

 

Nancy P. Davenport was born, raised and lives in the San Francisco Bay Area; in her lifetime she has been a legal secretary, a yoga instructor, a barista, a hamburger-chef, and has worked at the Palo Alto Chapter of the American Red Cross.   Nancy chose to pursue writing to create a new life after finding herself on full disability.  Her poems have appeared in issues of The Burning Grape, The Mountain Gazette, Danse Macabre, The Bicycle Review, FEARLESS, Full of Crow Poetry, Turbulence Poetry, Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts, The Rose Red Review, various issues of Red Fez and Twizted Tungz, and has most recently been accepted for publication by Shwibily Press, Ravenous Butterflies, Poetry Quarterly, Haight Ashbury Literary Journal, and Blue Fifth Review.Nancy’s favorite quotation is one of Samuel Beckett:  “Ever tried.  Ever failed.  No matter.  Try again.  Fail again.  Fail better.”

Promote. Poetry.
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