ALT ON IMAGE “Most of the time, I meditate on the opposite wall.”— Sylvia Plath, ‘Mirror’ How I was taught—give face, say little like a Buddhist, though I’ve no real faith. Just myself to blame—wrong house. Wrong mirror. Too soon, they pass up the pine stairway —daring to look only once. See? Unbearable just being Beloved. Hearing your name called from another room blank of sugar. To hook your beauty. Then fly out of this frame. One wing says to its other: I need. You too. The exotic bird repeats against glass—becomes greener than its throat. Vikki C.