Mirrors

Mirrors
by Tada Chimako

The mirror is always slightly taller than I
It laughs a moment after I laugh
Turning red as a boiled crab
I cut myself from the mirror with shears

*

When my lips draw close, the mirror clouds over
And I vanish behind my own sighs
Like an aristocrat hiding behind his crest
Or a gangster behind his tattoos

*

Oh traveler, go to Lacedaemon and say that in the mirror,
Graveyard of smiles, there is a single gravestone
Painted white, thick with makeup
Where the wind blows alone

This poem brings many different sentiments, times in history, images, and feelings all at once...A mirror is an interesting object to write about...it covers all manners of sins, doesn't it? It hides, conceals, covers, glosses over, magnifies, diminishes, and judges all at once...Very much a reflection of life in the full sense of the word, a true imitation of what's real.