Sonnet 4.5

When in the mirror a newborn face I see
I put not onefold faith in those shining eyes.
In columns three have I built my legacy:
World’s work and love’s labors stacked to sloppy highs;
One with false starts, one with savory losses--
When womb asleep and heart laced unfettered.
The patina of these two outglosses
The third, whose unmarked brightness is tethered
To abdomen, then to ancestral past,
Housing ghosted fragments of yesterday,
Part but apart, it’s him he must make last,
As I must bid self-love beckon my stay.
Posterity passes life’s energy,
But threefold lives my memory and me.