My mistress chose me from a line of girls.
Saw my too-white hair, too-dark skin
Looked into my eyes
And smiled at her reflection.
Bow to your queen, Mera.
She chose me like a trinket at the market.
I’ll take this one.
A bit on the small side, isn’t it?
What else could I do?
I tended the rest of her possessions.
I combed her cornsilk hair and laced her shining dresses.
I looked into her eyes
Lovely, deepdark eyes
And dreamed she was smiling at me.