In The Image Poem by Nancy Ames

A white dress
gives a bald man
a cup of coffee.
Looking down
into the still, round pool,
he sees a large, reflective dome.


We are created, we are
created in the image of
the creator and forbidden
to create any images.

In the image of the creator, we
are creators of forbidden images.

The forbidden images of our
reflection are the creator's one
disputable act, a secret theological
rebellion which the vast, crystalline
innocense of the universe must
never, never suspect.

There must never be any ripples
on the still, round surface of our
reflection... but there are storms
in heaven and lightning that can
crack even the best reflectors
into insane distortions...!

The white dress
watches the bald man
exhale his stale disgust
and noisily, stupidly
take a thirsty gulp.