Never To Be Photographed Again
Parties, crowds have changed their tone:
I won’t be photographed again.
Even makeup doesn’t help.
I need the light, the angle right.
I’m such a kvetch*. I never was.
A smile that lit the face.
A jaw clean, cheekbone smooth,
But now, around the mouth
A darkness – the old lady syndrome.
Waiting to burst forth:
Hairs, black or white,
Like clothesline twine or angel hair so fine
That sharpest tweezers cannot grasp.
Unclasp this poem.
The only thing it has is rhythm.
Self-esteem and narcissism
Is the crime:
Words of vanity that end in m.
*
Yiddish: chronic complainer
© Never To Be Photographed Again 6.24.2010 Circling Round Vanities; A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Arlene Corwin