Without Mirrors
He forgot
how his jaw
used to stretch
in loud laughter.
No mirrors
to watch his days—
just windows,
and distant eyes.
His beard trimmed
by finger’s feel,
a chunk missed
Here and there.
He looked well
in belts and socks,
even handsome
under the sun.
No one asked
if he still knew
the shaded glint
in his own eyes—
the torn shape
of manly lips
once easily thinned
in witty smile.
He dressed
in shiny clothes,
well ironed out
but creased inside.
Sometimes,
he caught a flicker
in silvery spoons
he barely looked.
And so he lived
like seamless shape,
without his twin
staring in mirrors.
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