My Mother’s Vanity

by Mohamed Sarfan

The modest piece
possessed, like her,
a frugal grace

Perhaps it was an uncle’s gift
a sweet sixteen
its seat, petite, poised on

Slim aluminum legs
holding her
gaze in the looking glass

It was here she’d primp
frosted gloss and ironed hair
for a date with my dad

Here, she affixed the veil
to her black beehive. Long, false
eyelashes blinking into her future

Soon, she’d allow her little girls
to fancy themselves mommies
puckering, playing and press-on nails

Then, she moussed her perm
a spritz of Gloria Vanderbilt
before my college graduation

Later, she put on readers
to see the small print
on the box of Revlon dye

And did she reflect on her reflection
after taking her niece
to get an abortion
when no one else would go?

Eventually, two Styrofoam heads
sat with silent eyes
to keep her wigs in shape

It was here she penciled in her eyebrows
Autumn Brown
when the chemo took them away

And when it was time
I sat on that seat
wobbling on uneven legs

To clean out the bobby pins
and lipsticks, the earrings
and rosary beads

I don’t have the space
for that kind of piece
I quick flick mascara and

Smooth on chapstick in the car
my son singing
from his booster seat

So, it was there, on the sidewalk
where I placed the vanity
just in time for its mirror

To watch the hot orange sunset
cool to its nighttime blue
***