I caught my reflection <br />in a shop window today <br />and almost choked <br />as the last brittle nail <br />snapped from the tentative grip <br />I had on my delusional vanity <br /> <br />There’s something about dark rings <br />around the eyes <br />that only seems to work <br />for the eastern Europeans <br /> <br />Maybe if my name was Ilana or Nadia <br />I’d be able to wear <br />the putrid pink lipstick <br />with a certain <br />“Hello, I’m comfortable with my sexuality; <br />would you like to put that theory to the test” <br />attitude <br />or carry the black hair and pasty face <br />wth the flippancy <br />of an avant garde Czech actress… <br /> <br />But it’s hard to see my way <br />towards that kind <br />of immortal confidence <br />when I’ve been draped <br />with a name that means <br /> <br />blind<br /><br />Sheila Knowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-name/
