Tuesday, October 13, 2009


Hands mould, abuse, shame and control
A marred psyche plagued by cheloid scarring.
Mirror, mirror in my eye
Surely you will tell no lie.
Repulsion; truthful observations of the temple.
Distorted perceptions provoking metamorphosis.
A scalpel to flesh, needle and thread.
One stitch, two stitch, guilt stitch, filth stitch.
Mercury tainted window - quicksilver reflecting a cumbersome vow.
The looking glass lined with sin,
Casting aspersions forth with flippant disregard.
Polishing cloth recoils with each stroke,
Collecting the shards of mercurial dust that have accumulated over time.
Desperate cleaning, searching for echoes of the past.
A patient history waiting ominously to be revealed -
A hoped for barrage of self-loathing
Each attempt to define the tarnished image trapped in the mirror
Erodes the meticulously applied silvering.
The dust shifts, the cloth sloughing away the surface,
Revealing the true nature of the crime.
No longer a mirror, the glass exposes an innocent child,
Who, wide-eyed, learns how she too must behave.


  1. Thanks Stephanie. Really happy with the feedback.

  2. Cryptic as always, but after all, it is one of the reasons I love your writing! I feel overwhelming compassion for the child looking into that mirror, and, as your explanation mentions, sadness that such evil exists, where children's innocence is stolen.

  3. Great! Keep writing poetry!
    And visit my blog:www.smitaspoetry.blogspot and leave a comment.

  4. 'One stitch, two stitch, guilt stitch, filth stitch.'

    This is my favourite line

    Damn servitude!!