Self-Portrait in Euphemisms
       

Isn't she pretty. A thin film of moon-
light on a mound of snow. Food depletes memory

and should therefore be welcomed.
A permanent realization of everyone else's medical bills.

She drapes a veil over the mirror.
The opposite shore is unbearable. No one minds

migrational patterns. Blue jays arrive
too early and freeze. April deeply confused. Sun and sleet

equally disconcerting. Isn.'t she funny.
She dresses appropriately, excuses to not emerge readily

available. And isn't the blank sky
the same as surface-deep sleep. And hasn't her dinner

gone cold while she waited. And
hasn't she become an expert by now. Of course not.

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Copyright © 2018 Samantha Zighelboim All rights reserved
from The Fat Sonnets
Argos Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission