Shaving Your Father's Face Poem by Michael Dickman

First I get a father
from some city
of fathers

One with a neck

bright
red
And with all the tiny bird bones in my fingers carefully tip his chin back into the light like love
so I can see
so I can smell

I tell a dirty joke, then drag the steel across the universe

There's nothing better
than shaving your father's face
except maybe
shaving

your mother's legs

My bedside manner is impeccable

The white foam
stays white


*


In the evening
his face attracts moths and women
sons
daughters
It's as if his chin is made of Christmas lights, you have to shave the moths and family off
it takes forever

The wings get all over your fingers

I like to use Merkur Super
platinum coated
stainless
steel

You could write on water with it

Rust free
Rost Frei

Made in Germany
so it will

last and last


*


Shaving my father's face
I'm not shaving
my face

I'm shaving my brain

Lifting
the gray folds
to get at
the pink parts
Stuffing toilet paper into all the tiny holes I cut so it looks like a field of red flags waving
paper tulips
love notes

The universe wants a close shave
it wants its hair
high
and tight

You could bounce a dime off dad's skin

My hand
on your face can you
feel it