Whatsoever You Do

I wrote this after I realized I had pre-judged a stranger.

She rakes away the hair
each day;
revealing bruises untrue:
accidents on staircases.

She placates her resulting legs
in lilac lotion -
his present to her the day
the last cast came off.

She peppers tiny toes
with polish pink;
he likes her always to be
primped and perfect.

She stares with contempt
at passing mirrors
as if mocking a coward,
bullied and meek.

She wakes from dreams
of cushion clouds
to muscled arms that crush,
and grasp, and keep...

She falls among the crowds
as actress fair,
playing parts of people
with tight rubber-band smiles.