Inspired by Mary Cassatt’s “The Coiffure” 

Each morning softly intertwined 
   Stitched to linen bed sheets 
      You run hot at night so sweat sticks to your sternum
Oaken kiss to bare heel 
Stumble silently to the bathroom.
         Silently 
         Softly 
         Smoothly 
You won’t wake anyone 
      not the way he does when he’s up before the crack of dawn 
   dropping the pan as he cooks his egg and dirtying your stove and 
   hacking his lungs out and leaving a mess in your kitchen for you to 
   clean 
         Silently 
         Softly 
         Smoothly 
Without complaint. 
     You swallow your rising resentment — it’s too early for this rage — and face your reflection 
       It’s hellish, you know 
         But you feel beautiful somehow with your puffy eyes, your swollen nose and lips, your hair that sticks up every which way 
                Your hair. 
It will be the last thing that you touch after you’ve brushed your teeth and washed your face and powdered your blemished skin
     You’ll slip off your shirt and crack your knuckles and reach your tired arms up to an unkempt mane
     This labor of love is labor indeed
            as your arms will grow sore in seconds and your neck will hurt from being bent at such an angle and your teeth will clack against the bobby pins you’ve shoved between them
            You’ll put pins in
  That side 
    This side 
      Underneath that lock 
And you’ll sigh at each lump and stray strand and
  Maybe you will never be satisfied but
    This time is yours 
      And yours alone
        And that’s enough.