WATCHING HIDDEN

WATCHING HIDDEN

WATCHING HIDDEN

That year you’d had new cupboards built
along one entire bedroom wall:
white doors edged with plaited trim
handles adorned with twisted brass
The scent of newly carpentered wood
lingered for months
 
The inner shelves held the normal selection
of secrets and scents    accessories
to the life of white middle-class suburbia
Salisbury, circa the Seventies
 
Concealed behind one set of doors
was a cubby-hole of sorts with a dresser
at which you’d sit on a small stool
surrounded by mirrors front and back
Everywhere you looked    if you were looking   
reflected an infinity of yous
 
Often you’d rest your lit cigarette
on a pottery ashtray    an unbroken thread
of smoke curling up past your cheek
as you carefully dropped saliva
into a shiny black palette of mascara
You’d mix it in with a tiny brush
like an artist    then lean forward
and apply it to your lashes
Dark eye-liner next across your lids
then a splash of red over pursed lips
before leaning back again and reaching
for the last burning inch of your B&H
 
And I would sit watching    out of view
and a little in awe