Show Us (by Nik)
An unwanted mirror stands vigil
on the kerb, snatching
portraits of passersby who
take no notice
I check myself daily
in that lonesome silver sheet.
Can mirrors be said to have memories?
Sometimes, there's a pigtailed girl
in the corner or
the stern eyes of her father
staring over my shoulder
On Fridays it plays games, puts
a bowler or red curls on my head, makes me
fat, tall, beautiful
Last weekend it was spent, too tired
by the wash of people
unconcerned by their reflection
too reveal any untruth
I looked at it
It looked at me and peeled back
the glass, unveiling its wish
to become a gold-framed
guest-room picture of two tigers
photographing the caged hunter with a
glint of amusement in their amber eyes.
by Nik Way
- this needs future editing, will probably play around with different stanzas/line breaks or change the images to adjust the tone
- thanks for reading!