Every pass I take
I can’t erase the reflection in
the glass. Mirrors in the clouds. Mirrors in
the puddles on the ground. Even my shadow

carries them around. Mirrors make me look
larger the closer to them I stand. I’m going to
throw them all in the closet. Mirrors in
my car. Mirrors on the wall. They’re all over

the mall. Mirrors in the salon. I’ve been
introduced to mirrors from the day
I was born. I’ve broken them into pieces. I’ve
thrown in them in the trash. I can

no longer define myself from some piece of glass.