released April 7, 2019

Tied upside down the world
I gave a smile unto my invisible reflection
Tie tied fastened
My chocking smog of death
My mirror of darkness has shown me the future
Bleak it seemed
I painted a gloom of bleeding heart

Excerpt from “Dark Mirror” - Poem by Ofentse Mercy Hajane

 
Dark Mirror Sunday Poem

I
 
He sat by the lake to eat his lunch. It was Sunday. No one else was here. The winter afternoon drifted by, bare and empty. The heating units on the side of the building droned on. An afternoon heavy with a cold complacency. His mind drifted off…

Years ago, he was hiking by himself. Somewhere off in the Eastern Sierras near Bridgeport, California.

You know how you sometimes get one of those natural woozy narcotic feelings. Everything goes a little off-balance and blurry. There is a warm feeling that moves up toward the top of the head. For him this feeling came with extreme confidence. He was godlike. These mountains, he had created them. The trees and the grass, they were his. The rocks on the ground were arranged for him. They guided his path. The blue sky and each individual cloud hung ornamental. All were inventions of his mind. He was the creator.

The comedown was swift and unrelenting. Darkness settling into the back of his eyes. The pit of his stomach dropping all the way past his feet, drilling a hole 30 feet into the ground. That feeling of being tied down. Of sleeplessness under a thousand rough heavy blankets. Of not wanting to be anywhere.

Now the mountains went on forever. Each one would be harder to cross than the last. The sun was covered up. The pine trees were menacing. Everything now weighed him down.

That was the first time he really thought about it.

He had things to do today but he could barely think. It was already almost 1 p.m. He was still in bed. The window shades were still down. They held out the little light that came through his one window that faced the apartment building next door.

Later that night on his way back from the store he saw the police arresting two men right outside the entrance to his building. The flashing blue lights reflecting off windows and everyone yelling was disorienting. He recognized one of the men from when he used to buy. Before the clinic and the emptiness. And even before that when everything was wide open to him. When every night had the chance to be better than the last.

He looked down at the ground and there was an outline of a skull in the sidewalk pavement.
 
There is a reason for everything.

There was real determination in her eyes. There was a forcefulness in her voice. He had an idea this was coming but right now it was too much to take.

Only you
Only me

Only you
Only me

Nothing she was saying was making sense. The words were rearranging themselves after they left her mouth. He wasn’t understanding at all. What was she saying?

Only you
Only me

Only you
Only me

If only he had more time. This year had passed so quickly. He could dress better. He would quit drinking. He would leave the house on a Friday night. He would make it up to her.

Only you
Only me

Only you
Only me

This couldn’t be the end.

The next day he stared at the mirror above his dresser for hours. His room was dark. The sounds from the street slowly floated through the walls. They hummed in-time with the quite bass tapping of his upstairs neighbor’s house music. The thought wouldn’t leave his head. It kept pushing him further and further down.

A year later he saw her standing in the rain looking up at the sky. He never saw her again.

For three nights in a row he went to the same late-night diner. The one on the corner of Leavenworth and Eddy. He ordered the same thing every night. A western omelette, a side of fires, and a coke.

Those were the only words he had spoken out loud for three days now.

Each night he was sinking lower. He would stare into the mirror for hours. He kept his window shades closed. Every night he would stay up late and drink until he couldn’t see.

When he had reached the very bottom, he wrote the note on the back of a napkin from the diner. It was simple. He taped it to a light pole. It would explain everything.

He set out for the bridge, but he only made it a couple blocks.

II

Every evening now he goes for a walk

At the corner of Jones and Ellis
the setting sun
hangs on in the West
and disintegrates the streetscape

This hangover is worse than all the rest

There is a four-word poem
written on a napkin
and taped to a light pole:

“Nothing ever seems fine”

It’s Sunday again