That girl in the stilettos and tight dress
is my girl, parading back and forth before my closet.
in the precarious shoes she bought for the prom.
she thinks she has to practice being sexy.
She can’t imagine the future.
I can see so clearly: over a calm sea
of the mirror, a thousand warriors set out,
ready to kill
or die for the sake of her beauty
i can see how the tiny sails will disappear
into the distance
looking like they’re going under, swallowed.
by some jealous god or other.
She stares intently at the mirror
but still she can’t see the ships foundering
the hearts being dashed on the rocks.
now she smoothes glittery
shadow over her eyelids, dark lipstick
on her mouth when she blows a kiss
a wind drags the waves up to a great height before
they topple over and crush any man
who’s still alive.
– Kim Addonizio – “what is this thing called love?”