No Mirrors

The fat old man walks heavily

Nakedly from the office

To the kitchen to refill his glass,

A little water in the night.

 

A mouth dry from reading

Poetry of strangers aloud,

Softly mouthing the words

Dries the tongue like talking.

 

The knees must at least seventy,

The body thirty years behind

He is grateful that it is four am

And that he has curtains.

 

I am grateful there are no mirrors

So I do not have to see him.