Bearded Lady: On seeing eye to eye

i.
Early morning airport coffee
in a little paper cup.

10:15AM
AC Flight 880, she waits

Knees knocked together,
heels hooked into
the stool's crossbar.

The terminal is buzzing,
swarms around blinking screens,
information booths, dogs in crates,
suitcases wrapped in plastic, croissant
crumbs on the table,

The bearded lady tries not to sweat
through her red dress
in the humid August arrivals gate,
she waits.

Babies screaming, lost luggage,
matching hats, matching backpacks,
heartbeats slug like molasses
through corridors, security,
into elevators,
onto buses, trains

Amongst the monsters,
she is well hidden.


ii.
10:45AM- Delays today.
The mouth of the gate opens
and the crowd squeezes closer
to get a better look,

haggard, soiled faces spill out
in all directions.

French, Spanish, English,
Urdu, Africanz, uncles, mothers,
sisters, girlfriend in spike heels
hip popped, lips glossed,

the bearded lady takes a place in the back
attempting to blend,
despite her red dress.

She's forgotten
her dress is red.

iii.
10:48AM. Coffee's cold.

Finally, the head, neck and shoulders
she's looking for
emerge.
Wired eyes, sandwiched between
a blind grandmama and an army of toddlers.

Her heart sits swollen and seething
in the empty drum of her stomach.
She remembers finally
to exhale

down the terminal, the escalator
onto the train
into the hotel
out and up along rue D'Arbre Sec,

Sun setting.

iv.
Her nose filled with the
scent of powdered sugar,
she slips out of bed and down
the stairs to the edge
of the canal,
alone.

The bearded lady
kneels and then lowers herself
flat on her stomach, gripping
the edge

The moonlight casts shadows
in the shapes of monsters
on the surface of the water,

she scrunches up her nose
and catches her reflection.

She is looking for peace
of mind, and knows
she won't find it tonight.

A memory void-
she forgets the heavy head
on its pillow upstairs, the breathing.

The bearded lady,
she touches her face.