Moira In the Mirror
by Adam Selzer

Putting off her homework one more night,
and singing along with the radio,
Moira sees through time
in the antique mirror
that turns all things sepia.
She pretends the scratches in the glass
are wrinkles on her face.

Deep in the mirror, her hair is in a bun
as she and her lover ride in the carriage
sploshing through the murky streets
of London
returning home from a performance of
"The Death of Edward Lear"
on Drury Lane, the fog so thick
that no one on the street can see
that she's letting him put his hand
on her inner thigh.
She would remember this,
when the play stopped running,
when the Queen was gone,
after the fog cleared up,
after the wrinkles came.

Bathed through the window
by the orange lights that glow
all the way down Washington Street,
she ties back her hair.