-the morning mirror-

I approach the viewing with a degree of trepidation

walking on tentative feet, themselves new to the day.

my hands grip the terrycloth's sash yanking with the strength

it needs to knot one side to the other.

there’s a switch on the wall at the entrance to the morning mirror.

it ignites the atmosphere with the fierceness of the Sun.

my expression is contorted as if pierced by shards of light.

elapsed time since the rising: eight seconds. the good news is

Lazarus took longer.

I stand reflected from the sloping shoulders, to the balding head.

why do I move closer? what's the sense? what's left to navigate?

here is the visual assessment of the new status quo, an external

examination to affirm my existence, a confirmation of that which is

already known, a call to gather my goods, to reconsider what was once

thought to be considerable, and above all, to make it snappy.