Then
she looks in the mirror, the sun
Scorching every detail in hard honey-crusted
Panic, fear of wrinkles

The hard blue eyes the stone cheekbones
(what's made you so wary, liza?)
(why are you so
hard)


The golden hair shining
at the top straw
at the ends
(parched)

cupid's bow, turned down at the ends
defiant narrow small muscled

i am an emotionless slab of granite and
i don't cry