To spite my face I cut off its nose and placed it on a table. We like our eyes, and our mouths a bit, but that poor nose no one likes. Without its nose my head was clearer. But the gape of red just there at the center of my identity made others look away, and look back, and away. Back. I thought you wouldn't want to kiss me like that, all open, red, and con-cave instead of -vex, but you immediately took out a cotton swab and started gathering things to culture. The unobstructed view of my sinus was to you a revelation without horror. Newly fascinating. A trove. I cannot explain to others why I love you as I do.