ANNE M. HUDSON
Discovering the Wreckage

I stand before the mirror carefully removing the shards,
the slivers, of broken mirror,
the mirror which, years ago,
twenty-five years ago to be exact,
shattered overhead
and rained down fragments
on my face and hands.
Most cruelly, some entered
and remained lodged in
my heart.
My heart.

What a sight that was,
all the fractured faces and reflections of me
glinting sky and light
in their free fall
towards me in a startled pose,
hands held up to my face for protection.
The reflection of the sun's direct rays
in a mirror
can be blinding;
I'd learned that as a child,
but the breakage occurred suddenly,
and it was hard to remember this in time.

So here I stand
removing shards
from the wreckage long hidden from sight.
About twenty years ago
needles of glass
were tweezed from my face;
there's barely a mark from them today.
It's this heart
of mine,
this lacerated heart,
that has to heal now.

EVAN DASHEVSKY
the purpose of religion

A sunny hillside
is no excuse
for running around naked
in nature
because
nature disdains your genitals.