This pocket mirror
from across the Pacific
closes like a clam
to hide its pearly finger-prints.
It fears it will forget
the green rice fields,
rice cakes, burnt rice-water,
jumbled, jingling, jabbering
street markets
and song birds.
It is caged now,
and so it closes.
When I pry it open it reflects
only my own face back;
it does not sing anymore.
Bio: A native of the Los Angeles area, Carissa is currently earning a Bachelors degree in English at California Lutheran University in Thousand Oaks, California. She hopes to teach junior high English while continuing her writing career. Her work has appeared in FIVE Poetry Magazine and the Larcenist Literary Magazine. She was also the third place winner of the Blue Mountain Arts 22nd Annual Poetry Prize.
Reblogged this on Carissa Faulk and commented:
Here’s my updated poem via Long Exposure Magazine. Give them some love and check out all the other great writers they’ve featured!
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Lovely.
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