Twisting in the Glass - Oct. 1, 2025

then, one day, I see

deep gorges on my cheeks

a purse of skin under each eye

a forest of hair logged

for far too long

the mirror must have gone

to sleep when I was thirty

and woke up at seventy

or Rumpelstiltskin got a license

and took me on a long drive

every day now, I look and try

to bend my reflection back in time

that grandfather, twisting

in the glass is just

a more sober, clown version

of what he used to be