Saturday, January 24, 2009

It was a small, compact mirror

But it was enough. He took it everywhere he went, so snug in his pocket it made a small, pleasant shape in the well sewn suit. For those rare moments he did not see himself reflected back adequately he was always prepared. I am here, he might say, here I am.

3 comments:

Linda S. Socha said...

I like this one. It creates an interesting intimate scenerio of life in these times in certain groups that I find on target and
thought provoking
Linda

Lemon Hound said...

Thanks. I will post a brief discussion of the poem shortly, but I am happy to have your comments about it before I post the author's comments.

Violetwrites said...

ah, love thinking about reflections of self. relates to something I posted a long time ago.

We each seek in the other a reflection of ourselves, to be seen through their eyes. Perhaps to reconfirm to our selves who we are, or how we want to be seen. Perhaps only to assuage our lonliness in knowledge of who the other is or who we see them to be in relation to ourselves. The other may be seen only as an extension of ourselves, or as undiscovered pieces of a puzzle or as a lost part of ourselves.