After the mirror of his mother died he lived in the Fun House at the end of the pier where the days were soaked in the odor of corn on the cob and horseshoe crabs dead on the beach. All night the water slapped around the pilings, the roller coaster clocked to the top. He spent his days wandering through the maze of distorting mirrors which gave him back fat and thin harelipped, hunchbacked, clubfooted each warped him to a new deformity. To be sure, he would touch himself watch his twisted hand feel his crooked jaw and then he made love to the shine of each glass surface grateful for any reflection. At night he watched one undistorted star between the slats of the roof. When death laid him out in his own image all the reflections came to look into the casket - the harelip in high heels, the hunchback in white gloves - but he could no longer give them anything back as the sea slapped against the pilings and the roller coaster clocked to the top. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE DAWN; SONNET by AMY LOWELL SUGGESTED BY THE COVER OF A VOLUME OF KEATS'S POEMS by AMY LOWELL TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME by AMY LOWELL DOMESDAY BOOK: CHARLES WARREN, THE SHERIFF by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |