1 min

MIRROR

By Sylvia Plath

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
 
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
 
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
 
I am not cruel, only truthful,
 
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
 
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
 
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
 
I think it is part of my heart. But it flickers.
 
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.
 

 
Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me,
 
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
 
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
 
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.
 
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
 
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
 
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
 
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
 
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

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