“Glare of Death ™”

I can’t explain that blank, deceiving stare--
straight forward. Eyes unblinking. Fury like
some twisting knife within my stomach. This
is only how it feels to me, though. I
can merely guess how making seizure-face--
how I’ve begun to think of it--must feel.

At least ten times worse, surely—grade-A anger;
perhaps some shame at that which caused the face?
It must be so, or he would not shrink back
From everything around him—into the
recesses of an overstuffed old arm chair.

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