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