Face

The Ukrainian woman slept curled up
like someone
who knows how to conserve space, warmth,
maybe even a dream.
Now she is sitting up again.
The spot on her face
looks like old age,
a prickling rash she’s had since childhood,
a recent outbreak of fever,
concealed lamentation.
Or just the imprint from the seat
of the international express
hurtling
through an endless plain
and its tall, silent grass.