the old love ain’t working for us, two women like us; i eye you in the
mirror; you say shadow here, contour here, sparkle here…i sit on the
toilet seat and touch my curly hair; i barely sparkle, rarely shine; hug
my thrift store 80’s jacket; look at my boots, new, christmas swag and i
see the curves of your body and can feel mine
          and i see the glow, sun, of your shoulders
          i see the glow, moon, of my thighs
          i stand behind you, us in the mirror
women, we say. vagina, we say.
vagina, vagina, vagina.
who do we think we are? we laugh, heads thrown back, her dark hair a
cascade like silk to her ass, my dark hair a riot of curls reaching for the
stars.