Entropy by Daniel Shirley

He stares into the mirror
envisioning crystal skin
smooth, unblemished
flawless. His gaze is hard,
eyes narrowed, as he
presses fingers into the
flesh of his cheeks,
pulling the fabric under
his eyes taut, the
wrinkled threads
of his crows’ feet
momentarily erased.
It’s a hard thing,
he thinks, to be.
To be in front of the
mirror, forced by his
own eyes to recognize
the flaws he cannot
pretend to unsee,
no matter how desperately
he tries to ignore the
connection between
his own sagging jowls
and his brittle,
shattered future.