The Dressing Table...
went out of vogue with
with Germaine Greer’s bra.
Remember those sibling expeditions
in the silence of the house we explored
love letters from the middle drawer
and stand up hair extremes.
Spray that missed our childish curls
and set solid over the looking glass,
pink powder in it’s own snapping box and
unknown initials
proof of her once dodgy existence.
Lip sticks with flamboyant titles
flattened to the shape of her interior kiss.
In teenage years this was
the final evaluation to perfect
profile in three dimension,
and consider how sexy the nap of the neck.
The dressing table is back
reclaimed by a consciously
embodied feminine.
She sits before herself
in benevolent light,
illuminating the artistry of her face.
Day by day her cheekbones sculptured by
the settling in of mood mostly about love
and her complicated and sacred journey

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