Faces

In the metro Women Only

a secret world shielded from lecherous eyes

women shed their faces, become lost in their worlds

safe from a slew of spies.

Mother chats with her very hyper child

who poses a riddle a minute

jumps and leaps, swings from the holders wild

With laughter in eyes deep and infinite.

"What sort of riddle are you," his mother asks -

Motherhood so obviously for her a pleasure -

"When will I solve that riddle, wild child?"

she adds, hugging her treasure.

Mother on her smart phone

With a prettily dressed girl

Squatting on the floor clearly too young

To read "Do not sit on the floor", the little pearl

knows her way through her favourite game

while her mother stares sightlessly

through the door, as harsh lines enflame

Perfectly groomed cheeks, lines painted away flawlessly:

What she's thinking turns her glassy eyed

And that not in a happy way.

What compelling thoughts pre-occupy her thus?

exiled from her little child's love, turned away?

her life a trial? Feeling, perchance,

that she signed up for something else?

Regret? Passion wilting? Non-existent individuality?

An overwhelming urge to annihilate her self?

And across aisles eyes make contact

Very brief connections hastily broken

For women know about precious privacy

And respect the other's, thoughts left unspoken…

For this is a place where faces are shed…

Where thighs are not scrunched together

To avoid contact with a potential threat

Elbows brush with gay abandon, a-feather

As young girls' laughter relieves the end of the day

A shared joy, momentary but profound

Before they go back to a possible daily prison

The freedom of this capsule, safety abounds.

No need to be someone else

for a short time and space -

In a city full of noxious predators

A haven from the predatory gaze.

On the other side of the seating place

One young woman lost in her earphone-aided world

Suddenly hears the drone of the approaching destination

Combs her hair, applies gloss to the lips, hair hastily curled

Checks her reflection in her smart phone

And in seconds is transformed

Now her face is on and she can take on the world

Eyes, lips and hair, all neatly adorned.

She looks up and meets my eyes

And smiles not knowing that I invaded that space

Not knowing, certainly, that inside my head

I wrote a poem about her putting on her face.