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She counts the coins in the fluorescent aisle
one hand on my shoulder one on the label—
“anti-aging ”“brightening ”“miracle night ”
The devil doesn’t wear horns in this town;
she wears a loyalty card
and a tired beautiful mouth
She says It’s not for him
It’s not for you
It’s for the mirror
that learned my name before I did
So she buys a little silence
a paper-thin forgiveness
a white lie she can wear
And the woman in the plastic window
smiles like a daughter
who has already forgiven her
At home the bathroom light is cruel and kind
She peels the silver seal
spreads the cold wet ghost across her skin
I watch her become a stranger
who still knows how to braid my hair
The clock ticks like a small polite execution
She says Don’t look at me
Don’t look away
One day you’ll do the same
and call it self-care
So she buys a little silence
a paper-thin forgiveness
a white lie she can wear
And the woman in the plastic window
smiles like a daughter
who has already forgiven her
Devilish mother
not evil—just tired
Not cruel—just caught
in the long bright teeth of a sale
She is trying to bargain with time
using a mask using a mirror
using me
When she laughs beneath the serum
it sounds like water under ice
I want to tear it off
but I don’t
I kiss the cool wet paper of her face
and taste the future:
perfume chemicals love
In the morning she is younger
In the morning I am older
The mask lies in the trash
a soft used moon
And the devilish mother
makes breakfast
like nothing happened
Like everything did
