They were a fast-paced family of wry expressions

that crossed my face each time I tried to laugh —

byzantine rainbows formed by toxic emissions.

My third eye was like a Foucault pendulum

from which depended lips & a chin that swung

their own way according to the gravity

of the situation. I wanted to know whose wishfulness

this was playing across my face. The wishfulness

that comes with guilt? Or lowered expectations?

Was it a clan of dour, repressed judgments?

Or a rapid-fire effort at complex agreements

that might be interpreted to engild or enhalo?