Close-Up

I’m never ready for my close-up

that shot that approaches
steadily

moving over the breakfast table
the orange scone decimated on the plate
the coffee pooling around the cheap mug
then ending gently but firmly
in a tight wrap upon my face
full of dark and light patches
and tiny bone-tone flakes
wherever I’ve dried out a bit

Not ready
any morning
for you to see me
so carefully

yet
you do

I endure it

because it happens
so often
and I still can’t believe that