I am silver and exact. I have no
preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow
immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love
or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful-- The eye of a little god,
four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on
the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I
have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my
heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness seperate us
over and over.
Now I am a lake. A woman bends
over me, Searching my reaches for what
she really is. Then she turns to those liars,
the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it
faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an
agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes
and goes. Each morning it is her face that
replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young
girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day by day,
like a terrible fish.