Bicycle Music

In a Hall of Mirrors
self finds self. Repeated.
Reflection’s a gilded cage,
words rustle furiously against it.
In gold frames one self
prints over another, one movement
sets another lurching the opposite way.
Meanwhile, susurration of language:
speaking, we trigger a chorus
of selves. Their mouths move in silence
stopped up with glass;
and we resist them
even as they meet our eye
as if they, or we, were guilty.