Mirror

Those eyes,
Like jade set aglow
In the embers of a
Dying fire.
Prodded
Here and there with
A rusty pipe
On a cold night
By hobos – tired, too
Tired.

We drag her down
With us, to the bottom
Of this acrid, milky
Sea, this flexible
Life-like doll
Meant to entertain
Our brutish fancies.

Yes, that is me,
She is staring back at me,
A brilliant mirror
That each day clouds
With dust.