after Titian
Love expects her own radiance to last
forever.
Her large soft body,
doughy belly and arms
no woman today would want,
but the face—
supermodel gorgeous,
glorious
in golden curls braided with pearls—
looks over her shoulder.
Behind her
a cherub’s about to bonk her over the head
with a wreath.
Beside her
another sturdy cherub holds up
the heavy mirror.
Between them
the vertical
slice of her
framed by the mirror
doesn’t match
one large dark eye
spooked
like a horse
the flesh beneath it sags
She sees
what any woman sees
in a mirror
her worst
The old woman
rising toward her
a goblin shark
The dark wood frame
closing
a coffin lid.
From Save Our Ship, Ashland Poetry Press, 2019
