As we lie down to sleep the world turns half away
–Elizabeth Bishop
I question whether it’s past time
to pierce my ears, dangle silver hoops,
feathers, add a small tattoo of a wine-
colored bird at the curve of my clavicle,
slip on a pair of stilettos, something low-cut.
All those years beauty wasn’t supposed
to matter. Now it does. I want what
I would have wanted then— a dress
on fire, love beneath the northern lights,
a river of curls no man could ever swim.