Poetry Archives

In the last glimmer of late afternoon,
burnished by the sun’s oblique farewell,
a mirror shines, across an empty room,

a shimmering patch of light.  A subtle fume
of brightness creeps along the dusty shelves
in the last glimmer of late afternoon;

immersed in shadow, rows of books are strewn
with dazzling motes.  Like circles in a well,
a mirror shines across an empty room,

reaching from pen to letter knife to spoon
and cup—as though reflection might dispel,
in the last glimmer of late afternoon,

oncoming night.  Unhurried, like the moon’s
ascent, or honey tipped from gleaming cells,
a mirror shines across an empty room,

a paperweight of myriad flowers blooms,
a softness flares within a whorled shell.
In the last glimmer of late afternoon
a mirror shines across an empty room.