Mirrors are Telling Lies

There is a need for order, a desire for change. I move things around. I clean corners. I see new arrangements on shelves and they make me smile.

New shapes, simple lines, things in place, small shifts.  

The world around me quakes— reverberating with hate and fear, resisting evolution. 

And so my simple solution is to remove the CDs, make room for books, clear space above the fireplace. Create my own tiny earthquakes— ones I can control, ones that give me tiny pleasures.

If only …I could mold my arms and legs into new shapes, if I could press my nose like soft white clay, mold my cheekbones, sculpt my collarbones, play the piano, dance the tango, unafraid.

There is magic afoot. 

God is alive. 

Parades crash and sashay down streets lined with cheering people. Children leap into the air—their small noses cold in the winter air, but they smell the magic, the hope and the crush of other bodies, other dreams. 

I long for my mind to open like a double garage door, raising up, up— light pouring in— other lives I have forgotten,  other lovers, other fights in dimly lit bars, tables pushed over, out-stomping, doors slamming- angry words on the other side of the door. 

I have lived these lives— I simply can't remember. I have ashes in my mouth. 

There were dining rooms and tables heavy with food, tureens and wine and stains on lace tablecloths.

There were calls in the night and sheets flapping in the wind, hung to dry. The sun disappearing, leaving creatures seeking shelter. Lives that now escape me. They leave a taste in my mouth, bitter like medicine.

 Nothing fits anymore. 

The edges of things push outward. 

The centre does not hold. 

And so I move the books from one shelf to another. I stand and stare into my closet. My toothbrush seems foreign to me. 

Spin the dial. Roll the dice. 

New combinations are required. 

New surfaces. 

Mirrors are telling lies. I need the mirror behind the mirror. I am seeking truth. 

I move a pile of dishes. 

I turn my dress inside out. 

I wear my hat pulled down low. 

I hide in plain sight.

Written on November 26, 2020