Birgitta Abimbola Heikka
Love Discovered Through a Broken Mirror
I stared in the mirror and all I saw was an elephant’s nose
fogging up the glass
I did not see the big, bright, brown eyes friends call feline.
Vainly, I checked my figure in the mirror before exiting the house
and saw spiky hips jutting out like a pair of dirty panties exposed
I did not see the solid, straight legs, granny calls strong.
The tape rolls each night and I hear the same lies
from a voice I’ve been hearing since I was five.
“Alien. Half breed. Mermaid. Hybrid. Interloper.”
He serenades, all night long, like a cruel lover.
Standing before the mirror in the morning, I see what he means
Sticking up like horns is blonde hair not straight or silken as often seen
but like lamb’s wool; the black undergrowth is likewise visible.
I want to take a scissors and slice through the black roots that dare mingle
with the blonde.
But that’s impossible for I will destroy them both.
In frustration, I reach out and smash the mirror
The deformed images bear no resemblance to any one known.
Suddenly, the fog lifts and I sit by the pieces of split glasses
weeping for the child who has grown not to love
For the clever monster who gave her a foggy mirror
knew of the first rule of love.