Two Mirrors from the End of Autumn

1. Downpour Diptych

Big puddle
in the middle

of the asphalt 
street. 

To human legs—
a nuisance:

to cross
traverse

step around
skip over.

        *

When the street 
is quiet

a pigeon 
lands

to rinse
his feet

to sip 
fresh rain

to comprehend
mirrors.


2. Recalling Dylan Thomas While Standing at a Urinal in the White Horse Tavern 

After one more pint of Harp, I’ll teeter out alone, 
fast replenished by the chilly air and the long rows 
of cold bodega flowers that glow beyond midnight 
like a funerary altar. Over the past table I repeat this 
present grace, although my own words only perish in
their moment. I drank for several hours with my back 
to your drab portrait, recalling broken ghosts 
with glow-worms, the slash of vision. No coroner 
ever testified if diabetes or cirrhosis eventually 
unmoored you: A black reward for a roaring life. 
I too have never found the will to find a wiser mirror.  

---

Peter Marcus | Cicadas Mating
Contents | Mudlark No. 55 (2014)