The sun rises so quickly on
the day before we set the clocks back,
and I rise far too late to see its face.

You should whiten your teeth some
and try to lose more weight.
Your head's just a mess of tangles now.

These are very good reasons
why I should live in twilight.
I'll never bother anyone this way,
and I'll get rest when they're all awake.

I'm stuck between two opposing cycles,
but I think I feel all right here.
I have no enemies at dawn or dusk.

Makeup that's not been used in a year
sits on its side atop the bathroom counter,
a gentle mockery of my general malaise.
The glass bottles and plastic compacts are
three-quarters full of scaly liquids and broken powders,
utterly useless to me now.

You should color your hair professionally
and buy yourself a microdermabrasion kit
while you're stuck online all night.

Can't you see the morning star?
She's the twilight's beauty mark.
Too bad you're no Venus yourself.

There are no good reasons
for why I live in twilight.
The predators are beneath my skin:
they thrive in whatever light I'm in.

© Jess Zelhart, 2007. Thou shalt not steal.

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