Ivory Twists Poem by Donna Quesinberry

laying a dress on the mattress
she shakes wrinkles away.
rippled feminine hands
smooth remnants of drifting chiffon.
a sash is placed close for review.

she dolls up the frivolities,
somber movements apparent.
a sparrow lands on the sill, he
pecks her glass-as only males will.
she stops, she grins-

marbled glass muddles the reflection.
returning to the dress, she notes
satin heeled shoes with ivory twists
and looks under her knees to bared feet.
no visible abrasions, no resident obscurities.

ungartered stockings hang silken like
ties-made cheaper with modernity.
across the hall, he sits. in sight.
papers being quietly reviewed.
head does not lift.

the mirror says she’s beautiful.