J e n n i f e r M a r t e l l i
Joan Mitchell Mulls a Possible Mandibulectomy
Only when they wanted to remove half your beautiful face
did you surrender the cigarettes
but never the booze.
Did you sit with your dead jaw on a plaid chair?
Did you jingle your options like car keys in one cupped hand
to feel the heft?
The cigarette in the other hand.
Manhattan on a cocktail napkin at your feet.
I’ve seen the sketches of you.
I’ve seen the absolute black and white sketches of you, everything crossed,
arms one on top of the other on your lap, skinny legs
at the knee, crossed
like fingers when we wish or lie.