I know Narcissus well
A banal but urbane figure
Presiding over a borrowed phrase
Peddler of second hand aphorisms
I'm told he succumbed
In a vacuum of bliss
A last tête-à-tête in monochrome
With his only paramour
Not that forlorn nymph
The echo of his eye
Poised at the distance he demanded
Charted to skirt the perils
Of a spotlight shared
Upstaging by some victor
In the pole vault for a golden statuette
A medallion etched in ivory
He slipped into that stagnant pool
Sure of his billing
Forever at the center
Of a one man show.
