(after Donald Justice)

avoid the damn mirror
it doesn’t mean a thing
there’s really no wrinkles in it
or blood shot eyes
or missing teeth
or sunken chest 
or a million moles
or hairy ears that look like howling wolf
but really you can’t avoid it 
for isn’t it suppose to be the essence 
of the singular fact of your existence
and give you back exactly who you are
 
exactly

this one starts at the floor
and rises five and a half feet
curiously congruent
with the subject at hand
why is it here      
and for how long,
and for how much longer
will it tell its lies

it claims that if you stay perfectly still
and stare at its surface
some inner truth will be revealed
maybe the size of the heart
or even a hint of the soul
or maybe a glimpse
of a seven year old boy
inside a seventy-seven year old body

but that quickly melts into
slouching shoulders in a baggy sweater
a frank unflattering look,
you cannot forgive the damn thing
or laugh at it, though you’ve tried,
or ignore its daily terror
your only hope is for a graceful truce
until you are no more