Christmas Eve

with tortoise pins, like huge insects, some belonging to her dead mother, some to my living grandmother. Sitting on the stool at the mirror, she applied a peachy foundation that seemed to hold her down, to trap her, as if we never would have noticed what flew among us unless it was weighted and bound in its mask. Vaseline shined her eyebrows, mascara darkened her lashes until they swept down like feathers; her eyes deepened until they shone from far away

Art · American and British Literature Analysis · Jungian Analytical Psychology · Literature: history, themes, analysis