as a mirror (poem)

I stand before you as a mirror

But not a perfect mirror, no

A piece of work rejected at the factory as flawed

Sold at a discount perhaps

Never framed, left around, moved here and there,

A corner chipped, then taped together

The silver peeled

Labeled ‘mirror’

Stained with fingerprints

Dirt adhered where gum from stickers long forgotten once stuck

Scratched by overzealous scrubbing

Tried to sell at a yard sale, unsold, given away

(I could not throw it away, it might make good art supplies)

Part of a growing collection of mirrors, no room, no room

I have others far better, some worse

I have written poems about this mirror; it would make a good movie, too

Fingernail polish makes a good paint

I have layered on other materials, too

I could not stop for the paint to dry

We stuck on other mirrors with little more than spit

It could not be moved or it might fall apart

There is no room to eat at the table, there is no time

Dinner doesn’t matter as much

The mirror must be layered, layered

With images of a kind

I do not see it as art just something that must be done

It must not be left undone

The mirror gives life meaning

What would I do without it

You may laugh and whisper but I do not notice and if I did I would not care

You may say that I can not separate myself from the mirror

But that is nonsense to me

I would not want to

The mirror is everything

Stand back make room I can not hear you shut up

What is the price of stopping?

I sharpen a knife to scrape away layer after layer and reapply pine needles

Please do not open the curtains, No!

There is no reason

To let outside life distract me

The life inside is life

I do not understand you, how can you have no mirror?

by DanShaw.com

Unless you’re here

There’s a lot of miles of road between my bonnie girl and me

A mile of road may as well be the Andaman Sea

Girl I’m missing you as soon as I open my eyes

Missing you from sunset to each empty sunrise

I console myself that we are looking at the same moon

Even through the distance we’re as connected as can be

Safe and strong in the connection that we share

Miles of stinging longing electrify the air

I’m afraid some jars will stay unopened until I get home

And who will read the poems?

Even flowers in the garden long to be taken home to you

My day hasn’t really happened unless you’re here to tell it to

The sorrow of separation can only be matched by the joy of reunion

God willing, I’ll be home before the first snow falls

And see your shining glow and feel your embrace

And gently stroke your glorious face and hair

And scratch your back where you can’t reach

And softly snore

In the warm luxurious comfort of home, and heart, and you

By DanShaw.com