Bearded Lady: The shape of her nostril, just the teeth, her ears

Dry elbows stands by the open window

one
late
night
she walked out to the cold car
and sat watching
the street in front of her,
then the reflection of her profile, closer

if you can imagine,
she is not very big.

That morning she had boiled three eggs
and put them in the fridge.
Later she ate them with salt
over the sink,
then washed her fingers
in water.

She runs them down
the stem of a glass,
balanced on a thigh
and touches the rim to her teeth.

The blueness of her
shirt
is lost
in
the
car
in dark night.

The motion sensor light behind her
clicks off
Only her eyebrow lit,
jaw
bone in jaw stiffening;
she presses her lips to her wrist

something in her snaps

a hand that slides over her hip
and pulls flat against her stomach
when she should be sleeping
this hand that dissolves.

She thinks of a lovely place
somewhere she has been
and knows she keeps good secrets.

Dry elbows moves closer to the window frame
and touches
her own
arms,
breathes;
her face unmoving.

This time of year
the
air
is
cold
and
unforgiving.