roman nose

by Steven J. Serafiani

as a kid you are persecuted for traits out of your control,
for me it was my nose,

a beak lodged above my limited lips and below my meager eyes,
I hated it,
a birthmark on the right side only accentuated my animus,
and they, they were barbarous,

as I grew older and my face caught up in character,
I looked at my hook with pride,
it was different,
it was exclusive,
my aquiline nose a source of power,
the infrastructure of heritage,
and now I wear it like Augustus.

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