Savage Morning Rituals

My reflection winks at me when I’m not looking.

I swish and drop my dizzy head,

and while Colgate blue and red make purple,

my reflection does a sassy hair flip too.

I search the mirror, seeing spots and dimples and droops,

and my mind does not enjoy that at all.

Tugging, pushing, lifting, twisting, and sucking;

I do not get along with my reflection,

and my reflection could not care less.

Two becomes ten tries at tidy in no time at all,

but nothing is true.

And hiding under fabric doesn’t fool my eyes.

And my gut weighs heavy in my head.

And I can feel the jiggle of my thighs clog my arteries and slow my heart.

And all the while my reflection winks at me.

And I ache to be my reflection.