Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear
and what isn’t closer than you thought?
Start with bills, so sweet over the transom
with the polite origami of their envelopes,
as if inviting you out of the house, out of doors,
away from your infernal typing: come, visit!
Until they come again. And again, closer and closer,
like texts from an ex-husband that you have cleverly given
his own ring-tone—the science fiction one,
so that every time he wants something
he breaks into your village home like a flying saucer
landing on earth, so close, all of a sudden,
the peace and quiet you have built shattered,
and there he is, ray-gun brandished, demanding
what time, how much, why not, why don’t you ever,
if you would only, I need…
