The Mirror’s Edge
How close can I get to me
When is my breath all that I see
Cold reflection crisp with lines
The space around me fills in time
When face to face at last I sit
And leaning toward my nose’s tip
Contact is made with mirror’s edge
Nothing sure but fog of breath
Leaning back some steam remains
Stories about me enter frame
Tactile trust intimacy
How close I get is up to me
— April Resnick
sometimesihatemycat 
a Georgia O’Keefe meditation in words