Reflecting
Water spits back the sky,making the changes it sees fit:
ripples for interest, a tree branch
for emphasis. The sky, in turn,
doesn’t give a damn—it is
itself, no more, no less. We
are not so simple. We edit
and layer—lipstick, hairspray,
brick red nail polish to match
the handbag—doctoring
the canvas of ourselves,
daring the reflection to ripple,
trying to trick our mirrors
into seeing what we
think we should be.
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