so I, gleaming in wedding blue,
say, “you look beautiful today!”
to lace on sky-cloth, hair like clouds
behind round-rimmed glass, her cerulean eyes glitter with tears
and she tells me that it can’t be true
her sister was always prettier, even when they were kids
so she just accepted it and kept living
translucent skin quivering around cracked lipstick
and now she (thinks)knows she can’t be beautiful because she is 92 years old.
she loves my voice and hair, though. Heavens yes.