MIRROR IMAGE

Knut Ekwall (1843-1912)

MIRROR IMAGE

He didn’t look at all as he imagined

Himself to look.  When he came

Upon himself reflected his view

Was always, seemingly, oblique.

Obscured at times by serious

Happenstance, flocks of birds,

The whipping of lianas or palm

Fronds against the windows

As the light from the oil lamp

Bounced the reflections off

The glass,  it was not likely

That he would be in any

Space where a proper mirror

Might be found that wasn’t smoked

Or distressed by having the lovely

Mercury scraped from its back,

Making him look tearful or

Extremely lonely as an old 

Waltz might be lonely,

The music unable to bear the weight

Clarity would require and become

Indeterminate, a misfortune.

He became a hostage to his ideas

That everything he saw was

Infected in this way and

The only places comfort could

Be found were  either blasted

Clear of living things or so totally

Overgrown that passage through

To pure sunlight was also seemingly

Impossible  He betrayed himself

To a distant idea that could

convey little, stripped of any

Possessions of perception

He himself might have beyond shadows,

Wings unable to fully open,

A disguise that passed

For recognition with no

Feeling except in irritating memory.