In Vain
I keep thinking about painting portraits of what's real about
This changing face
Shifting flesh
Lines that form with each smile and worry and disapproval
around my eyes and mouth
The grey hairs that no longer sneak in but announce
the passage of time
I have never known what to do with my hair
and I won't pretend now
even years after my mother is gone
and no longer threatening to make appointments with women
with pastel hair piled high
who snip! snip! while they chit chat
many more inches that fall in delicate silent wisps
to the floor and my back
while I sit in a swivel chair facing a mirror
that tells me my shoulders have rounded
my neck is fleshy
and that cow lick will always make my hair part so that it looks
like my forehead is getting bigger on one side more than the other
and what used to be called freckles, now age spots,
have taken over
Each laugh and sorrow has settled into my skin
and I can feel them when I run my fingers across my face
pull and stretch the flesh
remember the stories it tells.
