a clean face and smooth moves

I want to wash my face
until my face has been washed away.

Gone. Faceless.
I will live faceless.

I want to wash my body
until my flesh is gone.

I will go on as bones
and blood.

I want to wash until I feel clean,
but I can never feel clean again.

You cannot wash away the dirt
of having failed your own son.

I spent the days between his death
and his funeral washing. A…