Gabriella Vilas Boas
I.
Golden crust,
Surrounding,
A pool of reflective glass.
II.
The glass loves when people look at her.
She learns to bend light.
Creating a frown
By flipping a smile.
III.
The mirror sparkles on the wall.
Lurking and watching
those that stop to stare.
IV.
She gathers dust.
When reflections walk past,
They look away.
V.
She calls reflections ugly,
Picks them apart hair by hair.
Until someone finally looks at her.
The mirror’s conniving edges twist and turn.
But still the reflection looks beautiful.
VI
With all her might,
The mirror tries to flip and bend.
The reflection does not budge.
Instead,
A clenched fist collides with the glass.
VII
Sharp shards cut.
Seven years unlucky.
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