Moving The Mirror

by Mary Campbell (Button #9)

My things are dead weight:
$30 per 100 harmless pounds
Of books, pills, pots
Unplugged machines.

Only the mirror transcends
Its spectacular gravity.
The movers have given me
Five special boxes to pack it in.

When I wrap it in plastic
It reflects me through the murk.
Inside the box
It reflects darkness.

The mirror is all verb: sleepless
It does what it does non-stop
The sun goes down, the moon
Blacks out, the mirror mirrors.

If I struck it with an axe
It would mirror me a thousand times.
Professional movers won't touch it
Until it's invisible.