Eye of the Beholder
Christina Ells
she stands in front of the mirror
getting ready for the night shift at the diner
applies her orange-red lipstick
that’s what it says on the tube, “orange-red”
not fire
or tangerine
but orange red
she contorts her lips in that funny way
all women do when they apply lipstick
but she goes outside the lines anyway
runs a comb through her hair,
its dyed black as night
so many damn tangles
flicks her cigarette ashes on the floor
and reaches for her mascara
the kind that clumps really well
and makes you look like you have spiders on your eyelids
doesn’t wash off with soap and water
or anything short of turpentine
runs the pencil over her lids
a nice charcoal black
big, clumsy lines
running her entire lid
coughs because the smoke is in her nose
as her cigarette hangs on her moistened lips
dots the lipstick on her cheeks
and rubs it in for rouge
assesses herself in the mirror
you are beautiful she thinks to herself
and in the end
isn’t that all that matters?
