Poetry: I Used To Be Vain

I prepare my nails before bed
gnawing and ripping them with that one jagged tooth
I wrap my hair with jumbo doobie pins and a knock-off Coach scarf
pose in the mirror
head down
shying from my reflection

I used to be vain

I claw the skin beneath my eyes
where the ash of dry salt mapped the path

blood streams down to valley above my lip
down to my second chin
collects around my neck
like sweat during August heat waves

it drips to the half healed flat iron burn on my breast, still pink
-raw

I rub it in like
-crimson balm
then lick it off

I used to be vain

Copyright 2009 Z. Walker

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