Peripheral

She asked if I’d had it checked,

her thumb tracing a line just behind

the hinge of my jaw.

I had to use the hand mirror,

angling the light until the silver

showed me the small, irregular smudge

hidden behind the fold of my ear.

Thirty-four years of washing this face

and I didn't know I was carrying

a secret piece of geography,

a dark spot I couldn't see

without a witness.