That Grand Old Mirror Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I was staring my Death
in the face

and it looked exactly
like me

as I struggled to escape

the dark waters
of the canal

littered with junk
that nobody wants

(including me)

old bedsteads...kitchen sinks...useless bicycles
and this grand old mirror

reflecting my Death
back at me

and I now(having changed
my mind)

eager for air
and sunlight

but trapped by the leg
by God...knows what...

staring at myself
in the mirror

for possibly the last time

erasing my mind
like a child’s drawing gone wrong

some bloody hero
diving into the next day’s headlines

saving me
from the cluttered bedroom of my death

old bedsteads...surreal bicycles
and that grand old mirror

still lying there

with my Death

it’s last memory
of human kind

annoyed that I had
cheated it

of its reflected glory.

Sometimes
still I dream

I’m lying there

still

seeing nothing

...nothing.