mirliton and mirrors                                                                          —Sean F. Munro

sniff where it attaches to the vine;
then tap your knuckle on the mirliton
to hear how many heartbeats ago
the soil swelled in a fall flood.

place a penny mirror on the root bulb
and bury it to see every tendril sprout
each year since you were born.

if you place two round mirrors
the shape of nostrils on an oak,
you can smell what the air was like
the first day its leaf had breath.

when it rains, glue a mirror
in the crotch of a crepe myrtle;
you'll see who the water last wet,
and at night this lets the myrtle
see your limbs and hair,
your beautiful branches,
your green green leaves.

Sean F. Munro

Sean F. Munro teaches writing & lit at Delgado Community College in New Orleans. He received an MFA from the University of Arizona, publishes poems in a few journals, and is calibrating his first book of poems. If you're ever in New Orleans, have a holler. 

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2018