Side Mirror

J.D. SCRIMGEOUR

You’re trying to reattach your car’s side mirror
but your ungloved fingers can’t remove
the protective strip from the two-sided tape,
and the mid-morning sun angles into your eyes

as you try to align and fasten the plastic clips.
You’re floundering in flashes of light and dark,
so after a few minutes you scoot inside
because January’s cold, and ask your wife for help,

embarrassed you can’t do even this simple task.
She peers over her glasses, studies the tape,
then returns it unstuck, separated,
and you tromp back out to the car.

Up the block you see the grown son
of the red-haired woman who, your wife heard
from the Greek grandmother across the street,
died last week. He’s in a black overcoat,

standing in a crowd of cars in the driveway.
He went to school with your son.
Didn’t he used to like video games?
He came into your house once or twice.

He watches you bend and futz
with a last bit of tape before you stick it
on the exterior—appearances be damned!
You wonder if grief is making this blip of image

acute for him, how years from now he might
recall that his classmate’s father fixed a mirror
while he was waiting for his uncle
to come outside for the slow drive to the wake.

And you’re glad that you didn’t swear
too loudly about your little tussle….
She couldn’t have been much older than you.
You are suddenly so full of not-knowing

you can hardly stand. In the reattached mirror
etched with silver letters, Objects in mirror…
you watch him take brief, directionless steps,
in the small, rectangular, reflected world.

 

J.D. Scrimgeour’s bilingual poetry collection, 香蕉面包 Banana Bread, was published in 2021. He is the author of five collections of poetry and two of nonfiction, including Themes for English B, which won the AWP Award for nonfiction.

 

[Purchase Issue 23 here.]

Side Mirror

Related Posts

Black and white image of a bird with a long neck

Dispatch from Marutha Nilam

SAKTHI ARULANANDHAM
With the swiftness and dexterity / of a hawk that pounces upon a chicken / and takes it by force, / the bird craves / snapping up a vast terrain / with its powerful, sharp beak / and flying away with it. // When that turns out to be impossible, / in the heat of its great big sigh, / all the rivers dry up.

Tripas Book Cover

Excerpt from Tripas

BRANDON SOM
One grandmother with Vicks, one with Tiger Balm, rubbed / fires of camphor & mint, old poultices, / into my chest: their palms kneading & wet with salve, / its menthols, to strip the chaff & rattle in a night wheeze. Can you / hear their lullabies?

Blue cover of There is Still Singing in the Afterlife

Four Poems by JinJin Xu

JINJIN XU
my mother, my father. / Her skinny blue wrists, his ear caressing a cigarette. In the beginning, / it is already too late, but there is hunger & no time / to waste. All they need are six hands, three mouths, a clockwork / yearning for locks of their own, windows square & fresh.