Mirror Eyes

She frowns in the mirror,

Studying the way that—

Over time—

Age has dusted her hair:

A gray that she isn’t fond of,

Especially because of its earliness in coming.

She grimaces at the bags under her eyes,

Strikes upon an obscure,

Self-depreciating pun:

She could hold all of the week’s groceries in those bags under her eyes.

She pinches her belly and

Shudders to think

Of what she longs to look like—

Of how she never looked

And

Of how she’ll never—now—get a chance to be.

She looks behind her,

To the room in the mirror—

The mess in the mirror and

Cringes:

She can’t even keep a room in order,

Cannot even be

Her mother.

She curses and then

Slaps a hand over her mouth

As she

Feels the tug on her shirt,

And,

As she looks down into those

            Mirror eyes

She smiles

And brightens her daughter’s cheek with a kiss.