Reflections

Reflections

The shower-steam smear
doesn't hide my eye-bags
as I try to write their contents

as a map of my face.
But all I recall are mirrors:

that full-length beauty -
bubble-wrapped, transported,
re-erected over the years;

the seaside House of Fun -
you slim, me pregnant;

our first auction -
you held your breath
as I bid for the silvered

victorian into which I now stare;
remember our first car's warning -

"Objects in mirrors
seem closer than they are"
- as you enter the room,

distant.