🪞 Mirrors🪞

By M.P. Strayer

Copyright ©2025

She rocks back rolling her hips and swinging

her bare leg over my bare thighs and I feel

the air of her bedroom suddenly cold on my damp crotch

and then she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me

up and out of her little bed urgently and not speaking

and she guides me to her desk chair and pushes

me down into the seat smiling now and then

she pushes the chair on its wheels into a nook of mirrors

three walls of gleaming closet doors

all facing each other so I can see myself reflected

in those recursive corridors flushed and sweaty

and then she’s straddling my lap again gripping me

desperately in her hand guiding and I feel

my straining chill engulfed in the plunge of the dark

of a hot waterfall of squeezing slippery flesh

and she’s rolling again undulating her hips as I look

at our image melted in the mirrors fucking younger than

we’ll ever been again and in the mirrors I see

the glitter of her leaf-colored eyes

seize mine and my face is red and her face is red

as we grin and she bucks on and on into forever

into the silver echoing of the mirrors

and our eyes never break

as she picks up the pace smiling at what she’s doing

to me and still looking at me says

                                                            We look hot

and I try to answer it’s true but

can only gasp

Author Bio: 

M.P. Strayer’s work has appeared in more than sixty publications. His chapbook, h., is currently available from Bottlecap Press. Additional writing can be found at mpstrayer.substack.com. He resides in Corvallis, Oregon.