Kathryn Stripling Byer
Vanity - Poem by Kathryn Stripling Byer
a woman would stand at her mirror
looking back only,
not touching, for how could she?
The pulse points that wait to be dusted
The lips she rubs
rose with a forefinger.
She tends the image
she sees in her glass,
the cold replication
who dared eat
from her own hand
the fruit of self-knowledge.
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