Side Mirror

J.D. SCRIMGEOUR

You’re trying to reattach your car’s side mirror
but your ungloved fingers can’t remove
the protective strip from the two-sided tape,
and the mid-morning sun angles into your eyes

as you try to align and fasten the plastic clips.
You’re floundering in flashes of light and dark,
so after a few minutes you scoot inside
because January’s cold, and ask your wife for help,

embarrassed you can’t do even this simple task.
She peers over her glasses, studies the tape,
then returns it unstuck, separated,
and you tromp back out to the car.

Up the block you see the grown son
of the red-haired woman who, your wife heard
from the Greek grandmother across the street,
died last week. He’s in a black overcoat,

standing in a crowd of cars in the driveway.
He went to school with your son.
Didn’t he used to like video games?
He came into your house once or twice.

He watches you bend and futz
with a last bit of tape before you stick it
on the exterior—appearances be damned!
You wonder if grief is making this blip of image

acute for him, how years from now he might
recall that his classmate’s father fixed a mirror
while he was waiting for his uncle
to come outside for the slow drive to the wake.

And you’re glad that you didn’t swear
too loudly about your little tussle….
She couldn’t have been much older than you.
You are suddenly so full of not-knowing

you can hardly stand. In the reattached mirror
etched with silver letters, Objects in mirror…
you watch him take brief, directionless steps,
in the small, rectangular, reflected world.

 

J.D. Scrimgeour’s bilingual poetry collection, 香蕉面包 Banana Bread, was published in 2021. He is the author of five collections of poetry and two of nonfiction, including Themes for English B, which won the AWP Award for nonfiction.

 

[Purchase Issue 23 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Side Mirror

Related Posts

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller

Book cover of Fifty Mothers

Mother is a Kind of Holding: Jenny Qi interviews Preeti Vangani

PREETI VANGANI
With vignettes, I could plumb its narrative arc to become a force propelling the book forward. It also felt haunting yet warm that the mothers kept reappearing throughout the life of this grief. That repetition created a chorus of voices that angers and despairs, yet cradles the speaker.

May 2026 Poetry Feature: Arielle Hebert, from Bottom Feeders

ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, / palms dancing in salt breeze. / I take a too-deep breath / and the air prickles my lungs / like an unfiltered cigarette. / Only the tourists are swimming, / coughing through the algal bloom, / eyes bloodshot and skin burning.