The face looks at him. He looks back. Behind it is a wall. Behind him is a past. Past that is a wall. There, in the future, is a photo, hanging. Behind that is a voice, or is it an echo? One calls to the other and then there’s a cough. Outside leaves fall like soldiers. It is autumn and today there are more dead than ever. He turns around and there is a different face, with its back to the wall where the photo will hang in the future. Above the face is a bulb. It glows without light. Outside it is dark except for the moon. The shadows are deeper than in daylight. This time of year the flies hum in the room. One lands on the face and a hand brushes it off. The eyes of the face watch the hand. It seems to belong to someone else. The hand holds a candle that does not light the future. The echo calls, I am your reflection. A voice responds, parthenogenesis. The face creates itself anew. There is no mirror. It is long ago, before death.
Leonard J. Cirino is the author of fifteen chapbooks and eleven full-length collections of poetry. He lives in Springfield, Oregon, and has devoted nearly four decades to reading, writing, editing, and publishing poetry. Glossolalia was published in 2005. A limited edition, letterpress chapbook, The Truth Is Not Real, was published by Adastra Press in 2006. His long, personae poem, Mister Hatter's Matters, was also published in 2006. Ambiguities will be published by AA Press in 2007. He can be reached by email at pygmyforestpress@msn.com.
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