no where
but my shaving mirror
Laurel’s shower mist
high moon
such sweetness behind
these blackberry thorns
In the garage mirror
a closer lean on father
repairing her doll-pram’s wheel.
In the mirror
a sliver of moon
rides the curtain breeze.
Lake mirror
the cries of belonging
from the migrant geese.
in the window mirror
she passes to work–
her bump rounder
Rear-view mirror
headlights…
the sense of it before the crash.
Sundial garden
then in winter nests
just sparrow bones.
In the mirror
the tot counting stars
with her baby lisp.
Pink bedroom
her thirteenth birthday
begins in the mirror.
