Bernadette’s mirror is a mystery to me.
Reflections are colors making shapes making scenes,
scenes that arrange themselves one against the other,
burying each other, juxtaposed, like strata
of rock enfolding millions of years, being time.
I feel the reflections from Bernadette’s mirror
enfolding me, coloring me and shaping me,
juxtaposing me against the strata of time,
being before, being now, being yet-to-come.
I can’t move, all bent out of shape but looking through
the strange folds around me, penetrating me, too,
strange colors reflecting from Bernadette’s mirror.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Bernadette’s Mirror: Eroding
Bernadette’s Mirror: Fossilized
Bernadette’s Mirror
The Fossil And The Paleontologist
Fossils Never Run Away, But
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