As a woman of a certain age, use the magnifying mirror
To coat your lashes with mascara
See the eyes of your mother looking back at you
Or the eyes of the girl you never were
Watch as your lips take an unintended twist into a line like your mother’s
As she said romantic visions were, after all, just so much fiction
A momentary indulgence like rich chocolate
So much better left untasted.
Better to stay with the concession of sacrifice in the everyday:
Don’t fill your head with fancy highfalutin ideas,
Don’t need an education to be a waitress,
Get used to doing what you have to do.
Good sense for the day to day
Is not found in the books you like to read.
Her voice has long been white noise.
Her wise counsel dripped pearls of beer.
Comical, really, how this happens:
How the face in the morning mirror becomes
Your mother’s staring back.