when I submitted this poem to the magazine, I received the following reply:

Dear Leila,

Unfortunately we are going to pass on your work. We don’t feel that it is quite the right fit for our A Portrait in Blues anthology. Good luck placing it elsewhere.

Kind regards,

Platypus Press Editors

Rather, this poem contains all the blues’ features, only the message is not served on a plate. Pay attention to key words. It’s a poem about the separation of a (wo)man from the toxic environment and finding strength and meaning in their own being.

authors’ note: Rest assured my remark does not contain any hint of the petty conceit. Enjoy my poem.

Or not.

***

I  have found my face

It is beautiful…
to smile by the lake, to kneel before my image
I, Creator,
Beside my one true lover
Who gazes upon my improved facial features
I, Creator,
I touch them with my newborn newly lengthened arms
Recreating myself , but in my own image

Graceful mirror,
what a magnificent creature I am
the pure form, offended by piss-poor perfection
I have no need for this damned society
Of humanity’s cretinous castaways,
now that I have found
my mad reflection

One vanity
one nature
one jealousy
that gazes at what she cannot touch!
no more!
and one love
always reciprocated.

With this new love brought from Heaven to Earth
with this beautiful creation emerged from the freezing water
there will be no more Petrarchan Platonic patheticalness
no more dark clouds above my shoulders with the strong pungent smell of storm
there will be.. No!
no more waking life, no!
No more wounds in my back, no crying at night
no more…

Eventually
I understand that love is essential
I am taking the silvered mirror
I am kissing the lips of God
I am having my first date.
with Myself.