Linda Post-Lucas, Deep Reflections

In the shards of mirror, I examine
(as through the lens of a microscope)
the anatomy of past lovers,
illustrations they left etched in my mind;
each full of color faded to pastels
with moments of brilliance
that surprise me in reflection.

This one, he said he liked my left foot
or perhaps it was the right;
the turn of ankle leading to shapely calf…
and the muscle and tissue clinging to the bone…
hardly romantic.

He said it was fit for a ruby slipper
or perhaps it was glass;
that image, the delicately crafted image
he created,
has been shattered.

All that remains in my memory
is the image of my left foot – or perhaps it’s the right
cupped gently in his hands
as he whispers platitudes
and fairy tales
he never meant to live
with me.

Siobhan Johnson