Early spring thoughts while waiting

The reflection of two in the morning
Is the first mirror. Look into the night:

A found piece of obsidian
From the volcano inside the piano

Playing softly — only your heart hears it.
A dark screen. A dark sky. No password

To that star or the imperfections
That built around us a radiance

Invisible to all but those in the dark.
Is it any wonder the first stare

Into obsidian was unbearable,
They turned it to knives, arrowheads,

Jewelry, money. Anything but their
Selves. I am here in the dark

Inside a stone, listening to the music
Turn time’s pages. I swear

to you I will not polish this
memory into a mirror.