She sits
under the veil of a predacious stillness,
appraising the faces nearby.
Her gaze is alive,
tossed out like a net over frightened fish,
constricting instinctively.
She is safe—
she knows
the chocolate softness of her eyes
will never betray her.
Judgment makes them sparkle,
I muse,
like the cold turns honey to crystals.
Her arms coil protectively across her body—
they are two snakes,
guarding a treasure—
then suddenly they release to cradle her head on top of the desk.
She lets her weight pull her deeper into the chair;
a slow, inaudible breath escapes.

I wonder if she knows
the mirror’s not the only one
who sees what she can see.