i’ve yet to see a woman as beautiful as
my mother applying her makeup in
the AM light— stood in our bathroom, blinds
diffusing ever so slightly.

always brown or grey clinique eye-
liner, always sharpened first, saying
black was too harsh while eyeing
my own black wings. watching that
ritual every day until hospice, i am reminded
to appreciate my self, to take that mental
personal day. shimmer and black liner and
mascara on my fingertips, a feeling of zen
and the hope to be as beautiful as
she was, every morning.