Saturday, November 28, 2009
Procure a hand mirror, a one-sided mirror. The kind they use at hair salons, the kind that lets you see the back of your head, the invisible part, to you that is. Turn the mirror to the blank side, as when you can't bear to see, the side that protects the face from cracking, collecting dust. Now, tilt the mirror up and away from you, toward the sky, as if flashing a rescue helicopter. Careful now, don't drop it. Gradually twist it part way, still holding its face averted, the reflection visible but not glaring, as if slaying Medusa. Wait. Breathe. When you're ready, shift the looking glass toward you full frame. Gaze deeply. Deeper. We might even forget ourselves, cradle the mirror under one arm, rocking back and forth. It's okay. It's only an image, more fleeting than the glass of which it’s made.