THE FINAL CHAPTER
Today I look inside
someone else’s mirror
to discover there an ugly
beast, an aged creature, wounded,
skin sallow and sagged,
nose a bird’s bill bent
toward the ground, intending
there to dig our grave.
His throat a plural noun
surrounded by a necklace
of frightened adjectives,
uncertain where to land
or how to choke.
How much more pacific,
he groans to me,
to look at life outside,
beyond the human
eye’s lying lens.
A very fine poem.
Thank you, Bill. I’m glad to know that you dropped by, and grateful for the compliment. Much appreciated.