A Ridiculous Place

Infinite reflection, a thing of the past; it has been long I fell into a mirror.
To tell you of how I have been avoiding the error,
I’ve painted them all noir.
Yes, I’ve coloured them black in French, a language I love to hear
but do not yet comprehend fully.

There are perils, of course. Like there’s no alarm that would wake my smile.
The sleeping snake, visible on my face, attracts questions.
The opacity about renders the space limited. So, I find myself
burning the window meshes, bringing in new holes for light –
a little, comfortable portion of the infinity without.

But of course, my house is not an acceptable aesthetic.
With the noir mirrors and the burnt windows,
with the opacity and paucity of space, and
the serpent, dead, on my face – love knows it isn’t invited,
friends call it a ridiculous place.