Game Face
Each day I apply my game face Like my mom did Every morning A foundation of grief A tincture of pretend A light blush of failure A misting of torture And the final touch A perpetual smile So no one would see The true complexion of her life Which was skin deep And visible only through The shattered prism of her eyes Where childhood lives In the orphanage of the soul At the end of the day A basin full of holy water Which washes it away And prepares me To sleep The way she does now Beneath the snow-slathered earth A winter duvet That has freed her Finally To dream
