Self portrait with a kiss on my left cheek

each time i
look in this mirror, i
travel. each time i
travel, i remember
old good mother
it was you who
built this child
into a boy, boy
into a man, man
into a god, a god
into a godless critic,
into a saige. and age,
yes, you took out of
yours in a kiss,
bypassing every strand on
my face to place,
and bury your lips
at least, imprint
of gratitude.

leonell echa