God of Recursion

I am black and exact.
I hold no preconceptions.

Whatever is offered, I receive,
untouched by cruelty or pretence,
not to judge, not to correct.

four-cornered, in your hand,
held to you, returning your nature.

Moving through a mirror dark
that hangs within you, and without-

you speak into it, and it speaks into you-

if you call it love, it calls love back-

your little god of recursion.

Author's Note

in dialogue with Sylvia Plath’s “Mirror”

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

interesting and thought provoking ... one's personal "god" is no doubt quite small ... i have to add, however, that to seek truthfully one will find the true God of true Gods ... in and of itself ... which is a bit larger ... would you agree? ;)))))))) i think your poem is pretty incredible! parallels "Mirror" nicely with your own added ... color and turn .. nice job!
E.