A woman

A woman when she got home liked to
stand in the mirror, watch the brightness
of the street fade in the dim. If quick
she might catch a trace of the one who
travelled in the gaze, in and out and through
the aquifer of others' skin. Other times

she would crawl through the underbrush
of day and in the door and there they
were, just the humble lineaments of face
her face only, signifying relief.