Off    A thick darkness filled the living room
Making a shadow of every silver needle

It was the blue ornaments we loved the most
Every dot in the room with its mirrors of gold
And silver forming thick circles in thin triangles

Photos reflected in a soft cool, warm room
One of my brothers always snoring    Endlessly
Falling asleep in the farthest corner    His right hand
Glowing under images of silver and fire

Four mirrors    One on each wall    Hard to tell
Which was a window    Which was a glass billboard
With layer upon layer of shadows    Their frail bulbs
Popping at midnight into silver fragments
One mirror in the corner imitating a pale ghost