Saying Something

I am trying to find my face.
It was here, but
now it is missing.
In my broken body I am looking
for a key. Now I am looking
for my wallet. Now I am
looking for my glasses.
Soon my son joins in.
In a moment, my daughter
unclasps her face and
hands it to me. It only covers
my nose and mouth. My son
walks over to my daughter
and he unscrews her left
arm and throws it
through the window.
My wife, who is barely
and inch tall, yells, "The wind
will kill us." My kneecaps
are hard wood door knockers.
My eyes fill with smoke.
Something else is happening
but I am looking for elbows.