spiegel im spiegel (the poem)

quarter moon’s waning curve reflecting silver
sun in that jet sky without stars; & so much
        ambient sound vibrating you don’t
        notice till the power goes out—
the plaintive A mediant note rises from the cello’s body:
        (when the new moon arrives in a
        handful of days reflecting nothing)
a photo snapped on a hill in Ireland: rocks hills no trees
cloud & mist looking back in time: the
exposure taken the instant between sounds no
wind even whistling despite your dark curls swept
up in a breeze: piano bass notes articulating
green earth, the right hand dark water rippling,
        the cello bows a gray white
        sky creating snow embracing that
aluminum rowboat on the river reflecting a gray
white afternoon fifty winters past: an
infinite surface enclosing a finite volume—I
        wonder when day will
        break gray white to the east?
little bird fly to heaven & start now in the dark the
journey only takes all the lifetimes you have


Jack Hayes
© 2016