Reflexion

Wake up she whispers

His name

And “wake up”.

She always starts his day this way

A voice unknown and always welcome

Familiar

Who is she he wonders

Forcing his eyes open into the dusky light

The alarm clock reflects a trio of numbers

3-3-3 projected upon the ceiling

Askew to his eyes he smiles

Looks like three pairs of breasts

Chasing across the ceiling

First thoughts

The lights from the streets below

Project the mullions and sill and transom shapes of the window

Pythagorean

Triangles and trapezoids

And squares and rectangles

Across the ceiling and wall

Testing his feet

He stumbles

Once again

To begin his male

Dear…

He reflects memory, question, resignations

Reflections

The answer to one circle made

Sadly contently aware of what he is

And so it begins anew