Through the Looking Glass Carefully

Like a one-eyed jack,
I slip sideways through the mirror,
carefully keeping profile,
     keeping track.
I carry with me a fragment
torn away from blood-warm sleep--
a tarot now congealed,
     edged in dark.
The night, as I leave it, lay
dying in the east, her veil parted
by first light's silver thrust.

Deep within the mirror, cathedral
music marks my presence.
I cast the still-warm fragment far
beyond my shadow where it lay
unretrieved, like a stain.
Making no sudden move,
I look back from the mirror: Dawn
fractures the sky; her color,
     like fresh blood,
rinses away the spoor of night.

Like a fugitive,
I came back through the mirror sideways,
carefully keeping profile,
     keeping track.
The receding music, perhaps in gratitude,
delivered clean golden tones
and my arcing mind, drawn taut
between each world, sings
     like a fine wire.