I found a mirror, proceeded to hold it like a plot device 

And marched the hallway to reflect characters.  

The innocent acknowledged their bodies  

With glances they placed on teachers too. 

A charlatan crossed their presence 

Beyond the mirror’s glass,

By pausing below the light shade

Dirty with dead insects and dust,

Casting their shadow 

To the golden frame. 

I dipped the front end

Underneath the peak of my door jamb 

And hung the mirror 

Above an end table

Where I keep loose change. 

Pounds

And

Pounds

And 

Pounds 

Mingle with uneven spaces

Like constellations discovering pockets 

To hide their truth,

Or all of Michigan’s bridges empty 

Except for concrete and what else

I refuse to know.