Spider webs
on my face
I thought I was prepared,
after studying
the matriarchs,
their faces
held up like mirrors:
my future,
already there.
Hundreds spent
on creams and soaps,
on lotions, oils—
the quiet rituals
of resistance.
How vain it sounds
when I say it aloud.
And for what,
I wonder,
tracing a finger
along my forehead,
around my eyes,
following each line
to where Charlotte
has already been at work.
TheJFiles 