Reflections and Reality

A curving staircase banister sweeps down

a silhouette against a daylit window.

Curves, straight lines,

two dimensions as in a drawing.

On either side

a reflection moving back into space

adds a third dimension.

But also moving back in time

it adds a fourth dimension.

Yesterday, today.

A reflection that reveals

small shelves with bottles

and demitasse China coffee cups.

My grandmother’s.

A recollection, “time”

for she is long gone.

The glass pane separating

in and out

holds the hazy reflection

of newborn leaves

against a luminescent sky.

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If I pulled the sun bleached yellow curtains,

that I know are there but that I cannot see,

the reflection would disappear.

If I turned on the light inside,

the reflection would be chased away.

If I waited, night

would swallow up

the image.

---

I know

what is outside,

I know what is inside,

and here they merge the one into the other.

I see the reflected scene but not

the reality behind it.

---

An open window reveals

nothing of where, physically, we are inside.

Closed, it gives us a view

of the world we temporarily inhabit.

---

A diaphragm between that outer world

and a fragment of the reality

of the person viewing.

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