And that once I couldn't find mosquito's spot.
So I went,
white flower oil - super cure- in hand.
And I stood on a pile of fading newspapers
and grippe the sink,
cool and sturdy like big brother's hands.
And I looked in the mirror and saw...
HER.
And I didn't recognize.
I stared and stared,
took in the contour of HER eyebrows,
smiled so I could look at HER smile,
frowned, laughed, made faces.
When I got off the papers,
my size 4 footprints stuck to the clean tiles.
And for the first time,
I saw me smiling in my mind.

Poetry Magazine