"I have no ribbon lace,"
said my hair to my Self
when the brown curls fell
in the mirror on the shelf.

"I cannot find a trace,"
said my nose to my Self,
"of any family resemblance"
in the mirror on the shelf.

"I know not from what grace,"
said my cheeks to my Self,
"the blush that came to be there"
in the mirror on the shelf.

"I do not know the place,"
said my teeth to my Self,
"where my mouth left my smile"
in the mirror on the shelf.

"I am without a face,"
said my eyes to my Self
as we looked each other
in the mirror on the shelf.
K. D.
(Since writing this poem,
K. D. has met her birthmother.)