Sitting at my vanity, the lighted mirror-
blinks on and hovers like a moon. The
chiaroscuro room is dark outside
the nimbus of light. A glazed vintage
dimestore bluebird seems to sleep
at my elbow, while outside the window,
birdsong hooks and whips morning awake.
What are we to them in our daily ritual
of rekindled radiance? My eyebrow brush
nudges an orderly code. Pastel blush roses
my cheeks that puff out like clouds. Off goes
the moon with a click. A lacquered kiss
with a licked finish, and the sun rises.