Behind the mirror. By Dennis Moriarty

I am laid back, at ease with myself

behind the mirror

of my exterior existence. Safe for now

from the prying eyes

that scrutinise and itemise my every

misdemeanour.

Safe from those that are quick to judge

and quicker still to condemn,

keeping a distance between me and those

that count the pills I swallow,

the slurps of wine I take, them that stand

with closed eyes, ears and minds,

against the music that I play, the poetry

that I read and sometimes write.

And I wonder sometimes why they never

look too closely in my mirror,

perhaps too afraid that they might see

their real selves staring back.

The righteous sober that long to taste the

devil’s buttermilk,

the prissy pretty prim that crave the

the chemical enhancement

of the pills that I pop, their eyes and ears

and minds wide open

to the music of sinners and the words of

the bad ass poet they long to be.

But most of all I think they’re afraid to see

their reflections,

the drunken parodies of their sober selves

looking them straight in the eye.

Dennis Moriarty was born in London, England and now lives in Wales. Married with five grown up offspring Dennis likes walking the dog in the mountains, reading and writing.

In 2017 he won the Blackwater poetry competition and went to county Cork in Ireland to read his work at the international poetry festival. Dennis has had poems featured in many publications including Blue nib, Our poetry archive, Setu bilingual, The passage between and others.