Puddle Chops

The bathroom mirror sees within
a hoarde of ghosts
beneath the skin.
Keen asylum for kinks and creases
battered reflection
in a hundred pieces.

Sober glass upon the wall
confess to me
the sins of all.
Gentlemen and ladies dare
to spill perversions
when you are there.

Secret host of many masks
guide razors on
their hungover tasks.
Hide all wrinkles without trace
bring to life
a haggard face.

Young and old in front of thee
as naked as
a willow tree.
Frame the pose over soapy sinks
beautiful image
on a frozen rink.

Loyal stamp on wizened pages
life in chapters
on shiny stages.
Darkest wishes shared in colour
a different face
on every hour...

@Steven Francis poems 2009