Submerged Mirrors

A tap on crystal
glass, that looms
in the gloom of passageways under
cacophonous, perpetual waves,
wakes me.

Myself, afloat
in purgatorial bliss
wider in sight, a great new beast
on which my eyes can feast.

I wave and the mirror
waves back, gently.

I am them and they are I
as suddenly as
a look,
a thought.

The mirror builders
continue to watch,
I am now a member
of their rapid, vapid
party. We both smile
at the thought.

Sights unseen; my chest
puckered and
pure white;
my mouth, downturned, ill-mannered;
a swinging tail
ticking away the time which
now crackles with fragility
in the phosphorescence.

Unreflected, I am nought.
I am cracked into a million fragments
of my precious being.
The light is darker down here
where unseen I am


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