Monday, December 28, 2015


Emphatically—the thing doesn't
speak, but it

its imperatives. It works,

as a tumbler
in reverse—staining and polluting

that which you'd already purchased 
as shiny, silver,

and perfect-
ly useful. It fouls your image

with the homely
grit of indiscretion, forcing a whole

glut of conspicuous
indecisions—such as

whether or not
it still makes any

sense to try
combing your hair

when you
can't see anything

familiar in there? And though
you try

to wipe away
the condensation,

all you manage
to do is to

muddle the surface
further—so instead, you just 

stand there, still puzzled 
and peering, now

speaking out-
loud to yourself for

the first time
in a long while,

and asking—whether
what lies inside

the gilded frame
more closely resembles—

a chalice?
Or a pair