Summary:
Self reflectory; it seems the time of year has affected me, reflected in this piece and my last one, "Older."
Image partially altered by me.
© 2025
It shivers
at my approach,
each step toward reflection
wrinkles my arrival,
distorting is to was ’til
yesterme falls like bits of anvils
thudding in the sink
to break and curl and disappear,
sucked away
to lie on piles of yesterskin
beached upon some yestershore of me.
What an interesting opening. The mirror shivers upon your approach. I like this.
Thank you, Fia. And Happy Holidays!
Some days I glance at the mirror and can’t figure out who the stranger is. Like the mirror has ripples. But it’s no funhouse. I felt this one
I understand, Willow, my friend. Thanks for the input!
Mirrors don’t lie! It’s the cold hard truth when it comes to appearances.
I enjoyed the piles of yesterskin!
Merry Christmas!
Thanks, Addy (hope you don’t mind the short moniker). Hang on to some of that yesterskin, it could be worth something some day! Happy holidays!
Okay. I didn’t know the mechanics of it, but now I do. My ex wife couldn’t walk past a mirror without stopping to admire herself, but she might run past them now, what with all that yesterskin pilled up. You’re hittin’ on all eight, old man.
Ah, I think you, Sam, whoever you are. Where am I, anyway? What’s wrong with this TV? It’s got words all over it. Where the hell’s the game? Why am I typing the thing’s I’m thinking? Whzzzzxxrzpzzzz …