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.
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.