She Wore Her Beauty

A poem.

Portrait of the writer, shared with permission — copyright free.

She regarded her beauty
From a distance
With a wry humour
Like a worn performer
Of a sleight-of-hand trick
Grudgingly almost
Envious of those witnessing it for the first time
And who still saw some sort of magic in it.

She wore her beauty
Like a too-tight dress
Restricted in her movement
Pulling it down every so often
So as not to reveal too much
Cursing it silently
For filling out and thinning out and spilling out
In all the places it shouldn’t be.

She wielded her beauty
Like a battered gold shield
Unbearably heavy
But reliable and ready
Guarding herself against blows
With the sad resignation
Of a peace-loving soldier who did not sign up for battle,
But was enlisted into it.