Folks at the Authors Showcase 2017 asked for this poem. Here you go:

sculpture by Cheryl Bogdanowitsch

Mirror, Mirror

Part 1

 

The girl in the mirror

had big brown eyes

and white-gold hair

and I liked her smile

and I liked her song

and I liked her two feet dancing

so I

kissed her there in the mirror

kissed her right on the lips

kissed her fogging and smudging the mirror

but I didn’t care because

she was beautiful

and that was when

Mama walked in and something in her face

told me I was bad

and that was when she spat

“You are so conceited!”

and I didn’t know what conceited meant

but I knew that it was wrong

and so was I

and so was the laughing girl in the mirror

so I

learned to only look at her

sideways, in small pieces

an eye,

a lip,

her hair,

because that was the opposite of conceited

so then I was modest

and then I was humble

and Mama wasn’t mad anymore.

 

 

Part 2

 

Forty years later,

as I crossed

from one room to another

I saw in the mirror in the hall

something that struck me

as, well, sort of lovely

so I stopped and looked more closely

and it was the shape of the foot in the shoe

of a girl who is almost fifty

then I looked at her other foot in the other shoe

and it was lovely, too

so I noticed her shapely legs

and the curve of her hip

where the dress fell just so

and the cut of the bodice

flattered her small breasts

so I glanced at her neck

where the honey-colored hair

made a tender frame

for her face

oh, her face

should I, could I

look at her face?

and then I did. I

did. I

looked at her face

and it was the little girl

only older

and I loved the lines around her eyes

and I loved the tear that balanced there

and then spilled over

and I loved her cheek as the tears ran down

and I loved her whole face

so I leaned in close and I kissed her there in the mirror

kissed her right on the lips

kissed her, fogging and smudging the mirror.