Jennifer Tamayo

At the airport, we all take a shot of aguardiente because we all had each other’s faces When I saw my brother I saw my face I saw my grandmother I saw my face I saw my aunt I saw my stupid face On the way up the mountain I saw my face in a pile of trash I saw my face in the mule’s ass I saw my lover I saw my face but it was white&weary I saw my brother again and there was my face; my other brother, my other face I saw my face in the American Apparel ivory chiffon blouse I brought for this occasion In the occasion I saw my face, I did I saw my face in the pankekes the next morning My face was in the talk of death My face was in her teeth, the pavement, etc., There was a jail cell at the Museo Nacional, I saw my face A woman flowercunted & crosslegged, my face & my face Everywhere my face like I didn’t have one Botero’s asses all my faces I took down notes when it came to torture & the inquisition and saw my face in the leather swing set Clavicle spikerest & eye ruptrest Faces, I suppose, are a type of torture to look like one but never be one