The Hollow Side of the Mirror – A Poem


The Hollow Side of the Mirror

There are voices in the other room. A
stirring of laughter. Thin walls,
you see. I am on the
hollow side of the mirror visiting Roberto,
a ship captain who is drowning in
the fishbowl on the dresser. Diana, his
mermaid lady, spies on him from behind
his sunken vessel. A fish circles,
not paying any attention to the
tragedy, its only regret being
the blue stones at
the bottom of the bowl.

It is bright outside, fractured light
stumbles into the room. I cling to purple
covers that smell
like clovers. My
sin is being lifted up to the sun, accompanied
by choruses singing glory and hallelujah, and I
joyfully watch as, underneath
its heat, my life melts
into shallow pools of regret
and hypocrisy.

 The voices are frightening, with all of their
camaraderie and mirth, yet the walls,
an off white, stony kind of color,
offer reassurance.
The clock is nice, too, with
a little window in its face where
the moon pops up at night. But the moon
died. Don’t you recall? Betrayed
and abandoned. I saw his body
as it lay curled up and bloody
while passing through the alley that

 I hear there is a place in northern
Italy that is like heaven. By Milan, I think.
It would be charming
to travel there,
don’t you think? Perhaps there is
a hotel with a marble tub, and
on the porch a skeleton
wearing a cactus printed apron serves
wine in plastic cups.

 The voices draw near. I am
happy the door is locked.
I hate them, and the
giggling, and the walls. A figurine
of a mother sheep with her lamb
rests on the night
table underneath
a red shaded lamp. I thought about breaking
it, but found I didn’t have the
heart. Instead, I whispered to them my secret,
finally setting it adrift.
A leaf in an oblivious
stream. The mother
just stared at me with her gorgeous blue eyes.
The baby asleep at her side.

 When I was younger, I would
write Jesus. To invite him over. Awaiting
anxiously, I would
imagine conversations with him,
deep discussions about totalitarianism and
sandy beaches while we dine on canned soup
with crackers. He never
answered. Now, I am afraid, I no longer
have the room, and
the house is a mess. Anyway, what profit
would there be for him to
come at this time, and only
find the reflection of a man
who is no longer there.


7 thoughts on “The Hollow Side of the Mirror – A Poem

  1. Thanks for your follow on Shift Key. Did we pass in the same room? I think so. He would come. My mirror was different; but same room. No longer there, but I will always see the mirror. Enjoying your work! Thanks.

  2. Really, enjoyed this piece. I am becoming aclimated to your talky style which woorks very well for you. Just as I think the poem is ending up comes another stanza that zigs where the other zagged. But it works. >KB

  3. Oh, wow. I love this one..this is such a beautiful piece. I love how you express the intimate relationship you have with God and I can feel the tension too.. Wonderfully written.

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