if fire cracks the mirror
then clouds may part to reveal her face
if night passes like a kidney stone
then the box is returned unopened
if the damp gets irrevocably in
then an unequivocal answer will be found
if the suburbs are raided
then your recipe will be forever changed
if we ignore first principles
then insects will tire of carrying us
it should be more than cotton
candy though I lack
a recipe my hands have just
this tiny pen filled with
latency and the ladder is rotten
how many more nights
the sun bobs up and down
I look the other way that burning
you say it’s the weekend well why
not warp the mirror a little more
I can’t remember
why I entered this race
and I want to go to war with
each slender shadow
my feet must be cut from my shoes as soon
as the sun returns some color to those skulls
from under a rock hear me sing and walk on
and though I’ve made so many plans
when I look in the mirror by accident
before a shower a small bird tumbles
down the stair forgetting about wings and so
we come to this moment when momentous
things may be mouthed into the shabby mirror
of the sky and from the neighbor’s apartment
something like a snort or sigh
behind the mirror a rain-cloud ruling the sleep story was truly airborne and that we shall weep for the very gifts we now regift
already past as long as you can stay undecided about how to walk on the shards of this mirror after months of wind whipping the whys of juvenilia
deep in the living room in the mirror my wife’s leg
other animals 