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by Amy Benedicty
The wake-up call of Covid threatens to dissipate me.
Attributes slip away: First foundation--
cream I deceive myself hides many flaws;
then mascara and blush; that which remains--
lipstick to enhance a Zoom image--
also soon disappears. Purse, a nuisance;
jewelry, too hard to clean; no events
worthy of dress to impress. A welter of
activities fails to provide focus.
One morning I wake to interrogate
my arm as if a stranger. I dissolve.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Benedicty is an author, translator and freelance editor. Her work has appeared in Voices from the Middle, Through Mathematical Eyes, and Poetry for the People Press. Amy taught writing at the secondary school level where she won a Golden Apple Fellowship to UC Berkeley for her work with urban students. After leaving the classroom, Amy was the director of the teacher outreach program at the World Affairs Council. In her spare time Amy enjoys hiking, most recently in Bhutan; cross country skiing and visiting her far-flung grandchildren in Amsterdam and Manhattan.