14 Dec 2018 poem


I spent the mornings of two years,
looking into the Christ’s bathroom mirror.
I never saw myself.

I did see my lips move
with words other than the words I sang.
Sometimes it laughed when I unintentionally frowned.

Gradually, I found the image
in the Christ’s bathroom mirror
felt like a new friend at the edge of familiarity.

Once, I thought I saw him walking
along Juan Tabo Boulevard, near the library,
a fatigue jacket slung over his shoulder.

I was wrong. It was not the face I faced
for nearly two years of mornings
in the Christ’s bathroom mirror.

copyright © 2018 Kenneth P. Gurney



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