Pierglass

Pierglass

People are funny with mirrors,
We see in them things that were never reflected.
We peer into glasses in gloomy old houses,
And swear that the ghosts of the vain are detected –
Sort of like negative-vampires,
Who can only be seen in their opposite form,
As a shadow that moves on the edge of our sight
When the candlelight blinks in the empty old dorm.
We whisper into the speculum,
And fancy we glimpse at the face of another
From out of the silvery clouds in the tarnish –
A movement, a flicker, our killer, our lover.
We treat them as if they were watching,
To open a portal to trap the unwary.
But deep down we know that they only reflect us –
Perhaps that’s precisely what makes them so scary…