Naked Eyes

Self-study

There are no wrinkles.
No crows feet,
no laugh lines,
no sun-marked patches,
just a youthful blemish or two.

There is no sign of what lies beneath the skin.

Lips soft and pink.
A long lean neck.
Blue eyes washed in sea green.
Same steady gaze
I’ve seen all my life.

I watch her reflection;
know her mood.
She is terrified
of what’s inside
layered with her flesh and bone.

Her image becomes a watery blur.
"How can something so fair, hide the vilest illness?"
I ask, mirror, mirror on the wall.

I remove earrings, and rings, and
shake dress loose from shoulder,
to puddle on my feet.

Judgmental eye
begins the list of flaws.
I silence the critic,
stand bare of feminine trappings
in front of the reflecting glass.

It is difficult to look.
I see spots, scars, a need for sit-ups.
I am a weathered female child.
So this is me.

But I must prepare to lose more -
glossy hair,
womanly curve,
and…
I meet my own eyes
the dark lashes and brow accenting them from birth.

Move close to the mirror,
my flesh touching cool surface,
breath creates fog on glass,
pupil to pupil.

"Then, how will I recognize myself?"
I ask, mirror, mirror on the wall.



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Note:  this poem is part of a collection, to read more please see:

"the C-word"  13+: emotional, poignant, funny poems written about my experiences having cancer