NICHOLAS
B.
MORRIS
Mirror
The wall of glass stares back at the viewer,
pointing out minor flaws with
an objectivity that slices the eyes,
pulling out the flesh of sight
and replacing it with reflections
of the subjective, replacing reality
with fantasy. The reflection recarves
itself with a razor, distorting existence
as the eye sees fit, growing blonde hair
where once grew dark, green eyes
that once saw blue. The reflection
changes into a scorpion and eats
its way through the other side,
spiraling into a parallel universe
where the rules of real life
no longer apply. A smart reflection
will turn on itself and save the brain
the trouble of interpreting the images
it receives. If terminal narcissism infects
the viewer, the eyelashes fall out
and leave the naked eye to stare
at itself for hours, wondering
just how the reflection
came to be so perfect.
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