Five-thirty has its own regard
For my reflection in a flat,
Tripartite looking glass above
The shaving sink where a trick of
Light removes it from the middle
Panel as I carelessly leave
It slightly unclosed so that my
Face is displaced, the mirror not
Returning recognizable
Information concerning my
Disappearance, which is no more
Amazing in the early light
Than the evening carnival with
It's unrelenting fun house view.

a hand
you gave me a leg
and tripped me
till I fell flat
on my face

When I needed
a shoulder
to cry on
you gave me yours –
cold
to rely on

When I needed
a mirror
to reflect my light
you smashed it in pieces
all over the floor
throwing the frame
in an empty drawer

When I needed
a friend
you were a stranger
and stranger still –
I stuck with you