Knock, knock, knock!
I go to the front door.
No one on the porch but a bird smashing into our window.
He stops, looks, gives me New York attitude,
“Whaddaya want, lady? I’m workin’ here!”
He goes back to knocking, I go inside, the reflection won’t respond.
In the window propped a painting on glass, the morning light shines through.
Is the bird smashing the painting or his reflection?
Is he looking to come in? He wouldn’t understand,
There’s a room on the other side, another room beyond that, and again
A door beyond that, back to the world he just left,
He wouldn’t believe me.
Forever, immutable,
A portrait, a portrayal, a betrayal;
And a mirror, reflecting whatever is in the room,
There’s no room beyond that reflection,
Another portrayal, another betrayal, a lie.
I look in the mirror,
The reflection is me and not me
Under glass. If I move away, there is nothing there.
If I smash myself into the reflection
If I smash myself into the reflection
Will there be a room beyond?
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Brianne Calypso
Texas Means Friends
daisyjane
iamsurly
jmac1949
nilesite
Salon.com
Comments
I grouse flew into my window.
Honest. It was post 9-11's sad.
`
My posy war-body-synapse?
I was `frazzled-nerve-mess!
A mountain grouse crashed!
`
Now I place colored birds.
Red Tail Hawks scare birds.
I went into bodily shatters.
The window shattered too.
The window was replaced.
Moral?
Go to war?
No. No go.
If you do?
`
You'll be less prone to be nasty.
I had to re-sign in. Who knows?
Will Kerry ever begin to speak?
I know?
A cat sucks Lauerman's tongue?
Take a`catfish off. Then, speak.
It's easy. Just be honest, no hate
Deep thoughts
rated.
R♥