Lines of Sight are Reversible

Expect when facing mirrors glimpses at infinities, sureness

of self, in this breathing state, instead, discover bowed lattices shuttering future or past or whatever

looking glass holds and shows with its silver surface: no person, no time, no assurance. It is a bad habit

to check every reflection for presence as if hoping to be swept back to innocence,

but forgivable. Walls and windows play the reel in reverse and blink in synchrony.