The gleam of the knife
All my life I’ve been signaling my man in the mirror.
All my life I’ve been lighting his cheap cigarettes
at the flame of family photos.
With a sponge drenched in vinegar, for years
I’ve been wiping away his tears, his eyes, his address.
Now the mirror has darkened like the silver
of our old tea service.
In the noon light, his face seems a giant fisheye,
a deep sea creature hurled tossed onto the shore.
In its waters, the mi...