self portrait with insomnia by Margaret Stacy

a shine around your head 

greasy hair emanating 

the pale glow of dawn 

the dying sky 

complements the gloss 

in your eyes 

you sit 

with your legs 

against your breasts 

your sticky skin against 

the birth of the sun 

glittering flesh 

on a JCPenney chair 

turned to the window 

the light framing 

your mother’s nose 

between your eyes 

the cold caressing your cheeks 

red as your lips 

you’ve yet to paint your curls 

like the Greeks did 

dark and bold  

against your alabaster flesh 

you are almost a woman 

legs robust and freckle-scarred 

arms hairy and thin 

your wrists shiver in the cold 

your eyes misty windows 

to the ever-drifting world 

but here you sit 

like a painter observing her work 

God observing His genesis 

you stretch your awkward legs 

and feel the cold of the hardwood 

in your ever-changing bones 

for you were not meant to be a mere witness of the world