Mirror

Jameson Fitzpatrick

Nothing in us improves in me.

Surely you’ve noticed by now,

how with each look I get older.

Like Eurydice, only leisurely.

I might plague you less if you had real problems;

you should retire your potions and try them,

though they’ve been known to cause a crack.

Just walk away! That’s what I’d advise

if I could move my mouth

independent of you, who insists on pouting,

heedless of the consequence we must both face.

Go dance in the grass, give your retinue a rest.

Just watch out for snakes! Also

puddles, still bodies of water, panes of glass—

anywhere I might surface. Even

on the back of a polished spoon, I’ll be waiting.

For as much as I pity you

I hate you, as you taught me to do.

Jameson Fitzpatrick is the author of Pricks in the Tapestry (Birds LLC, 2020). She teaches expository writing at New York University.
Originally published:
September 7, 2022

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