Do you prefer my second face,
this artefact you’ve cast anew?
I’d hate to think you’ve left a trace
of what was so repulsing you.
My eye-white spreading down my cheek,
my nose and lips half burnt away.
Come here and take another peek,
appraise me in the light of day.
If this look’s not quite right to show,
may I suggest you try again.
Most painters need another go –
why stop at one? You could have ten.
Each draft will bring dramatic change.
Vary the mix, the line of flight:
after a hurl at point-blank range,
the gentlest trickle from a height.
Think of a future press release;
picture Tate Modern’s Turbine Hall.
I’ll stand there as your landmark piece,
“the most acidic of them all”.