The Courtiers

Within this mirror she can only see herself

she stares day after day, adjusting her hair

color and cut, cover the age, fixing it over her shoulders

in an easy motion, well versed, she’s practiced

 

They move around her, the courtiers

doing their digital dance, arm-in-arm, lockstep

flexing and preening, showing their bellies

soaked in cologne and fine silks

 

She loves the thump of their music, their stomp

bathes in the warmth of their sweat

aches to hear the candor of their words

wants to know they sing for her alone

 

But she can’t see them in the reflection

she only has her own eyes, adjusting jewelry

putting on her paint to cover each flaw

within this mirror, she only has room for herself