• Editor

Mirror Mirror on the Wall -- poetry by Shayan Kothari

The mirror on my wall

slumbers too often

into bleary inertia.

I see her wrists

singed by maraschino conflagrations

ignited in 1835 by a devious firebrand

who played with

the wrong matches.

The man tossed fetters on Mother Mirror amid

lynchings and auctions just to

bring more lynchings

and more auctions

for all her pregnancies to

live a fate bent with malleability

immune to civil war.

I see frayed keratin and translucent epidermis

sagging on my mirror

pining in fragmented cries

for emancipation— to bleed a

brackish reflection so

human race will

repair their veneers against

Mother Mirror’s vengeance.

“when will we get an Uncle Tom’s Cabin?”

I say writing takes time though veneers

erode with contaminated tears.

Mama tells me to bid farewell

to my mirror.

Sorry mama.

and Mother Mirror.

Shayan Kothari is a high schooler from Northern California who edits for Polyphony Lit. He often centers his work in the abstract and questions philosophical axioms. When not writing, Shayan enjoys exercising and going on introspective walks.


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