MIRRORS Poem by Raúl Henao

The looking-glass lies in wait for us
J. L. Borges
Mirrors deceive so they may gaze upon themselves again
in our eyes


Actually, we are their multiplied progeny, other
mirrors empty as a parlor


Doors open to doors intuited


Corridors of endless time into which we rush
each morning despite the force of moderation and habit


Unformed whiteness lies in wait
under mirages of still water


Spectacle of our simulated faces


Gameboards of chance and the fate we wish
were implacable and belonged to someone else instead.