I don’t concern myself with wrinkles now that I have
started drawing eyebrows.
Some days my eyebrows are movie star right
so high in the arched places.
It’s like I am looking down my nose from a cliff.
How do you do?
One day my eyebrows didn’t match each other
when my daughter was frightened by an angry man.
I noticed this only while driving to a party of my
young and former colleagues, who no doubt thought
what did she do?
On easy days when I don’t think about those brows
too much they look like the surface of round hills and
I look silly like a muppet.
On those days I have seen children smile at me
like sparkly goo.
I like you too.
On hard days the lines may be too thick like underlined
words that need correction.
They say, pay attention!
Do as I do!
But it is still worth the making up
because the waking up reveals a
part of me that’s vanished now
a naked speechless brow and
I’m not ready yet
to take a silent bow.
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who was raised in New York City. Since
she has returned to writing poetry this year, her poetry has been accepted in a few
dozen publications, including Feminine Collective, Ekstasis, Persimmon Tree
Literary Magazine, and The Avalon Literary Review.