looking into the glass
back at me?
Who am I
passing by her?
For all, I’d say
she is a liar.

Who is she
to him?
Just a painted stand-up doll
to fall head-on into his lap
and grin.

Who is she
to all
who see her?
that read her?
Just a whirr
a blur
of tangled snarls
in red lipstick
and crayon brows.

Who is she
to all who left?
A Gust
A Gale
that made them
lose their breath.