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
Strands
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

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