how many years have we been told
our eyes must sink like suns
behind the mountain men,
because warmth is an invitation
to strip the valley of its flowers
how many hours have we spent
covering our faces in flesh-toned tarps
to keep the rawhide in
and the tired out
how many times have we cradled
our sagging skin like babies,
damp from neglected tears
and swollen from the sting of
unattainable perfection
vanity is a word they made up
to excuse their expectations of
soft but firm
sweet but assertive
pure but provocative
wise but ageless
now when my eyes
are trapped in glass,
I liberate them with
a gap-toothed grin
and tell the world
it can’t have me
4-29-19
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