By Neil Carpathios

I wonder how much the mirror
would weigh

with nothing in it.

I step away,
step back,
touch glass with fingertips.

Every day I do this,

looking at the face
I’ve earned
with countless joys and griefs.

One day I will shave and do

the ritual not knowing
it is the last time.
Every morning I am rehearsing

saying goodbye to myself.

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