The Broken Mirror
silent dares
slow engraved exchanges
the primitive evolution of rage
only the fittest will survive
hostility has a spot at the table
there are no more place settings
the silver is set out perfect
a spoon, casts an oblong reflection
now, even the utensils see
there is nothing left of self respect
only the silver distorted version
of who I don't know, it is not me
strange little pieces
I swallow them over and over
when no one is watching
jagged little shards
cutting away at my insides
beauty she cries night and day
she has no idea that I’m killing her
I want her to stay
beauty is almost gone
the last parts, tiny odd slivers
are hidden away, in the bottom of my closet
vague, sharp and bitter no longer beauty
the path of least resistance
it's the only way to success
real images jump and regress
nothing takes a shape or focus
the fall and crash of glass
a precious mirror reflects what matters
beauty is unaware
images move slower and unclear
flashes of my father in a mirror
in this corner the heavyweight contender
my husband, my beloved, beauty's keeper
time merges and flickers closer
the path of least resistance
it's the only way to success
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
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