Look at her sitting there
Feet tucked into the sink, bum on the counter
She's leaning into her reflection
Eyes opened so wide as she carefully dabs
And prods
This and that on her face
She turns abruptly and beams light
With her smile,
She saw my reflection
She is eager
This is your house, your counter
You are not here, in your home, to accommodate the furnishings—
The counters not shaped for your uses
You are not here, in your home, to accommodate me
