Work Begins

by Joanna

Amethyst eyes
Peer from beneath
Kohl-rimmed lids
I clasp my fingers
About the comb
and set to work
Untangling, smoothing
Clumped from
Too many days of oils
Applied generously
Fragrant scents
To mask what might
Singe the air
I run the teeth
In slow strokes
Morning ritual
For the lady
Waiting for the sun
As it begins to rise
Boiling over the sharp
Crests of sands