Daniel Shannon

The Lavatory Mirror

A frozen crust of nothing broke. I saw

My face, fluorescent, swimming out the dark.

Head marcescent, I thought of tiger masks, 

Fishermen in the deep Sundarban wet,

Slick water-trumpets crushing underboat

As the low sun slowly set. Tickering

Up the brackish run, gazes dancing quick

Between each Thuk-thuk-thuk the engine beat;

Scanning blind-your-eyes through a sunken air

Thick with midges, last-light, heat. So it was.

Or not at all. What did I there half-see?

Between the dim and dimmer. Light outstared

And gone—what something darkly glimmered? What

Fixed face there spied? What shoulders coiled? What eyed?