Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Back to the Mirror

I have come back to the mirror
not to find myself
but the world I have lost.
I see no forest
only trees.
They are cherry trees. They are blooming.
White petals sift to the ground one by one
reproaching me with every poem I could not write.

I have come back to the mirror
to find it clouded with my own breath
pitted with the acid of my sweat
stained yellow with the jaundice of these eyes.
If it were glass I could break it
but metal must be polished.

I have come back to polish the mirror
with a wad of crumpled paper
with a handful of fine linen
with a single petal.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside

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