My Favorite Mirror
Today, I dropped my favorite mirror.
Watched as glass shattered
and conch shells cracked.
It hurts more than the shards cutting into my feet.
One, two, three, four,
I counted all the pieces.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine
put it in a neat plastic bag.
I lit all my incense,
and draped it in white.
But I couldn’t bear to
throw it out tonight.
So its glass shards laid on the floor cutting into my feet.
Checked once and twice and thrice,
Spared no expense in its burial.
But how do I pay the price
of sending it off?
So tomorrow
I closed my eyes and counted to three,
threw it in the bag with glee
and watched as it fell
down
the garbage chute.
One, two, three, four
pieces in a neat plastic bag.
Five, six, seven, eight, nine,
soon to disappear from my mind.
Ten,
the final piece.
It’s wedged in my heart
and it reflects the pale moonlight.