Am I no more than a mirror? br I reflect. br br I reflect pale Narcissus. br Bending to my fluid face. br He sees only his own beauty br Reflected in my eyes. br br I reflect Don Juan br br Who sees in my adoring gaze br Confirmation of his power br Over women caught in the headlight glare br Of his own masculinity. br br I reflect the joker in the pack, br br The card, Jack the lad, br Who in my quick responses, br My loud applause, will never see a bore br Reflected in the prompt screen I hold up. br br I reflect the aesthete, br br Appreciate his finer points; br Frame his sensibilities; read him like a book br Represent to him his muse, br Put value on his higher consciousness. br br I reflect the workman; br br Celebrate his solid practicality br By comments on his skill br And admiration of his labours, br Wonder at the use he makes of tools. br br One day br I shall reflect br Upon the image of myself br In the bright bronze shield br Carried by a man who angles it on me br And I’ll not be turned to stone.