Content with his ignorance,
he smiles, noticing no difference
in his ravaged mirror,
between the illusion of elegance
and the reality with a touch of the ridicule.

If later that mirror was surrounded by
unexpected nature, small branches with thorns,
fresh green that looks for sunshine,
the irruption of leaves, leaflets and pods…
and if later he was surrounded by the truth…
/
There are cavities where lies fall,
alibis where his life disappears,
sudden responsibilities to cover up
past travels to the land of void
/
If later the embrace of the honey locust
produced affection with a twist,
affliction and mist to lure
lifelong mechanisms, the lucidity
wouldn’t last, it’s all written on the birch bark:
predictable surface kissed by ignorance.

Then, her body is an affordable amphora
for him – asking her little at a time –
he safeguards the illusion of control
inducing, seducing, pretending not to
want anything to keep some vow
of chastity, poverty and self-obedience;
a monk, deep in the forest of a hall mirror.

And when he’s gone, she mourns the loss of nothing.