The Men Who Dwell In Mirrors

It is a common misbelief
that mirrors hold a reflection of our lives
the inverse, sad to say, is true.
The Men who dwell in mirrors
see us as mocking puppets
that ape their living actions.

Still, silver pool of doubts:
we beckon to them
from across the reflecting sea
like sirens with silent calls
marionettes of motion set in mercury
amorous, living shadows that never sleep.

The Men who dwell in mirrors
seethe and spit at our insults
rending and tearing in grief
at this pantomime of life
forced by unwilling necessity
to play the audience to our acts.

At night they creep,
with twitching spider legs of movement
from round the mirrors rim
across their world and into ours
creeping digits that clutch
from their side of the reflection.

They hear our cries of fear
and mock our children’s panicked eyes
though the mirror stays fixed-fast and monolith
they can always cross the silver ocean
and make the mirror surface shimmer
with their laughter at our lives.