Two poems by mark mitchell
CUBIST WOMAN AT HER MIRROR
She revises a morning
while renewing her face.
She moves her eyes
south and west
to almost meet.
With delicate impasto
she traces only one
corner of her curled mouth,
allowing light to do her work.
Then, staring at the reflection
of misplaced features she
lets one artful drip
find its way to her chin.
The sun is up.
Her mirror snaps closed.