Mary Bowling, First Year, English Major, Bristol, TN
I bought a mirror from
an antique shop. It was
beautiful, sparkling and
silver — my second
favorite winning piece,
the rewards of my good
efforts, my saving. I
cherished this mirror
for many days. She
showed me handsome
women, golden with
youth, innocent eyes
matching innocent hands.
In exchange for friendly
displays, I was her
devoted maid. She
remained clean as a
whistle; squeaky. And
yet, the
bewitched
glass began
to shift
such as day
shifts to
night. My
prized antique,
now dark with
wickedness.
The beauty
ripples away
as if I threw
a silver stone
in the pond.
She shows me
my nemesis in
a cruel joke,
and I am
trapped
underneath
the harsh
canary light
in my
bathroom.
Like sworn
enemies, we
leer defiantly
at one another,
animosity
swirling in
the air above.
Violent stares
within the
reflective
squares,
sharp snarls
accompanied
by the burning
ocean that
made a
permanent
home in her
eyes. Why
must she
advocate
against me
now? I am
returning my
black mirror
today, for she
has burdened
me with evil
mind games
and trickery.