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Triangle Mirror
By Tolulope Ogunlesi

the mirror I found in my brother's room
tells me to my face
that my face is an incomplete triangle,
fluid, shifting, unstable

that sometimes I have a sharp temple
other times a sharp chin
it says it is impossible to paint
an accurate picture
of the whole Architecture all at once

it explains
that my features are warring factions
like hutus and tutsis, bushes and ladens
that refuse to pose for the same photo
that my mouth protests it cannot
appear in this triangular tabloid
together with my wicked ears,
and so on and so forth
I didn't bargain for this lecture
all I had on my mind was to enquire
if my latest pimple had arrived as promised
so I drop the mirror on the floor,
and as I make to leave the room,
it reminds me that
not only has my face changed shape;
now it belongs
to many owners.

Stickman End of Poem

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