With my being here, the water level
of the sum of existence
rises. A cosmic squeezing
of the toothpaste tube,
climbing like shadow
to the lip of this universal basin.
“Put small dots of the toothpaste
on your pimples,” my Nona tells me.
“Let it harden.” But as I stand
in front of the mirror,
looking like a beginner’s guide
to acupuncture of the face,
I realize that where I am
there is nothing.