A Late Autumn's Night

The faces rise like holograms
in the gaps between your

cells

the blood's round edges leaves spaces
where they curve away from each other
and the not-used becomes used anew

globules

forming the edges of eyes and nose
they are your forebears typified
your progeny pre-echoed in your
flesh only emerge when pressed hard

droplets

gathered on sweated brow and curled lip
pooled under the glassed-in portraits
themselves streaked with blood prints
trailing trellising down the panes.

***

HIs meaty paws wipe, compelled to cleanse
corduroy ridges erasering bloody prints

He runs staggers away into the trees