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Sarah Best: Narcissus

June 7, 2020 by PBQ 1 Comment

“Leanness shrivels up her skin,
             and all her lovely features melt.”
                       Ovid

 

Narcissus lingers, sighs—
“How soft you are,” stroking.

In this daily veneration, I enlist
a stalwart humectant from the drugstore.
The timing circumscribed,
you must trap the shower droplets
with your thighs and breasts
and the small of your back
before they evaporate,
leave you desiccated. 

On face and neck and chest,
Applied with equal urgency,
a French milk cream that doubles
as an eye-makeup remover.
 

But today, I flee Narcissus
to chase the line that springs
between shampooing
and conditioning,
dispel the water freely 

As I scrawl my back scabs,
a hoary crust of sea salt
burgeons like a thick second skin.

Filed Under: Issue 100, Poetry 100 Tagged With: Sarah Best

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. Richard Fox says

    November 28, 2020 at 1:55 pm

    “… I flee Narcissus” Still, so many things are mirrors.

    Reply

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