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But who wouldn’t want to look that good

in mismatched bra and panties? She’s not

looking in the mirror she holds. Lying

on loose sheets, little rhetorical mouth

a little open. She’s waiting for her

husband to come home and pull the heavy

roasting pan from the high shelf, for

her kind and lonely neighbor, dissatisfied

with his manuscript, to gaze longingly

out the window where, of course, she

won’t see him looking. What I want

to know is how many steps between

pose and camera, between poem

and self. When did I decide to

hold the mirror, what had I seen

when I chose to face it away.

after Cindy Sherman’s Untitled Film Still #6


Lexi Pelle was the winner of the 2022 Jack McCarthy Book prize. Her work has appeared or is

forthcoming in Rattle, Ninth Letter, One Art, Sucarnochee Review, and Zenaida. Her debut

book, Let Go With The Lights On, will be released in May.

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