Excoriation

I remember the razor my uncle gave me

for 8^th grade graduation—Remington Electric,

water-resistant. A favor, maybe. My father

dead but rising from the space between

my lips and nose. Stubble then. Still,

I'd scratch at him with charged metallic

as if he'd disappear. All I did was push

him deeper. Now he's so ingrown

I tweeze him out. Post-shower,

after the mirror defogs, I press up against it