Hand Mirror Poem by Zyw Zywa

In the mountain with my man
of fire I have nothing to do
but to be happy

To entertain me
I sometimes appear
as a white virgin

in the world
before envious eyes and
unstoppable craving

to physically rediscover
myself once again
as new

My night and day last
longer than a human year
of the boys and the men

who string their shields
to the cords of my dress
falling open, showing

my beauty to be touched
to have the fragrant spring
of their foaming cream

massaged into my skin
of rose petals, being happy
without doing anything