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.
In the mirror
playing to an empty room
the pianola keys.
In the mirror
the crescent moon raising
its scoop from the sea.
In the mirror
a light globe swinging
with the cat’s green eyes.
