Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Yi Sha

The One Face I Remembered

to describe him as repulsively ugly
would be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking     the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day     I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place

THE ONE FACE I REMEMBERED

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The One Face I Remembered

to describe him as repulsively ugly
would be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking     the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day     I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place

The One Face I Remembered

to describe him as repulsively ugly
would be quite appropriate
as well as convenient
but how irresponsible
it seems
a phrase that amounts to saying nothing
because you still wouldn't know
what he actually looked like
his is the only face I've remembered
out of all the strangers I’ve seen
emaciated looking     the face of an ordinary worker
by the crematorium furnaces
that day     I was pushing
the corpse of my mother along on a trolley
when he blocked my path and said
“Leave it to me. This is not for you.”
I handed over the carton
of Three Five cigarettes I had brought with me
he accepted this without the slightest reaction
and walked away, pushing the trolley
the man who was taking my mother off
to her final resting place
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