Saturday, October 12, 2013


Woman with a Mirror 
Oil on Canvas, Frederick Carl Frieseke

She is so different from me.
She’s shallow and illiterate
Splits infinitives…
She hates and says so
With sloppy gusto.
She holds on tight
And snuffs out light.
Complains and voices,
unhappy choices.
Her weak hands she incessantly wrings-
 Without much thought of changing things.

That woman in the looking glass
I hate the perfect form she casts…
She is so different –

From me.

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