Portrait of a Snake Man
written by: Rosie Persiani
@ro_persiani
“I’m a snake,”
he says as I rub
a facemask across his face
trying not get it in
his beard.
His skin was dry
and he deemed me his beauty guru.
When he himself
could probably do makeup
better than me.
He always watched
very carefully as I took brushes
dipped in pigmentation,
sweeping them across my eye.
He knew the twists and turns
of my facial structure
better than I knew mine.
The steam opens up his pores.
“My beauty guru,”
he whispers into my skin.
He hops in the shower avoiding
the water near his face.
Leaning his head back,
letting the water cascade down.
I hand him the shampoo.
He squeezes the bottle
letting a dime of suds
fall onto his palms.
I watch him move it
through his hair
avoiding the soap
near his face.
He rinses out the shampoo—
it was a 2-in-1
that he knew I hated—
then turns to face the water.
I watch him wash it off,
running his hands through
his beard to clean
any bits that snuck in.
He quickly finishes showering,
letting me get in the stream of water,
but stands rubbing the soap
on my skin.
I turn off the water,
he steps out
wrapping a towel around me,
then him.
He has me examine his face,
to see if the patches of dry skin
remain.
- Roses - February 12, 2019
- Listen - November 7, 2017
- Portrait Of A Snake Man - May 20, 2017
