JANE DOWNING
Face to Face: a morning at the mall
Animal ears perched on top of her long pelt of hair – last night’s sexy kitten/ this
morning’s ironic cat; deaf to the wolf whistle
Backwards sitting cap, leaning across the Muffin Break counter; words stay
nonchalant, his eyes following her lips like a puppy on a lead does its master
Crown of her head facing out; pursed lips reflected in the surface of the iPhone
Drawing the conversation in front of their faces, their hands moving like puppets
animated on strings of words
Echo of the Celestial around the eyes, broad Ocker out of the mouth, mate
Four eyes: two shiny bug eyes crowning the top of her head, two human eyes no
longer shielded by the sunglasses; all saying nothing
Grimace, that says how stupid are you – the face saved only for her – and that’s
special isn’t it?
Hipster topknots, five o’clock stubble, the goatee
Interest shown by stroking the chin – The Thinker in motion and surely why men, and
women of a certain age, grow fondleable hair there
Joyful light coming from somewhere behind the eyes: de-light
Kinked wool hair, she leans back in the chair, the creases down the side of her mouth
as distinct as a Mexican moustache; forty years of boredom in her eyes
Landslide of chins
Mannequin, shiny, ivory, posed in the Vogue stance, faceless
Nine – the age of the perfect mimic – holds her icy water bottle to her mottled cheek,
the condensation trickling down her neck; rolled eyes, sighs: bliss
Out with the comb to tame the wispy monk’s tonsure in Westpac’s reflecting glaze
Pikachu onesie, hood up, ears flopped, dark face peaking out of yellow
Quiet baby, concentrating; face opens like a book on the sound of her mother’s voice
Regulation cyclist tight lycra smuggling budgies and goodness knows what else, so it
goes without saying that the face goes unregarded
Smiling at a three year old, not her own: wide and bright as Disney, terror in the rictus
of the lips
Tattoo spins its way up the neck, a perfect spider’s web, the redback exposed behind
the ear by the #1 crew cut; face sweet as
Ugly is in the eye of the beholder, and in the quiver of the jaw bone as the expression
moves from cat-mew to duck-pout
Very, very big bushy beards: who let the Ned Kellys out?
Waggling like a very hungry caterpillar, and the face below the monobrow also laughs
Xenophobic nose twitching, eyes shifty to downcast: disinclination to meet face-to-face
Yesterday she must have had her face painted; butterfly wings blotted to a smudge by
the pillow overnight
Zoological specimens: zebra-striped cougar, butterfly-cheeked fairies, wolves and
hogs and grubs, and finally the one you’ve been waiting for
Jane Downing has had prose and poetry published in journals including Griffith Review, Southerly, The Big Issue, Island, Overland, Westerly, Famous Reporter, and Best Australian Poems (2004 & 2015). A collection of her poetry ‘When Figs Fly,’ was published by Close-Up Books in 2019. She can be found at Jane Downing