The Mirror-witch

                             He was alone sitting in the dim bar.
                             Asked what he would have, he thought and then said,
                             “I think I will have a Bloody Mary.”

                             He sipped while staring into the mirror,
                             He was depressed, not much of a drinker –
                             This was his first drink in twenty-four years.
                             Twenty-four years, a long time without cheers,
                             But it was not to good health that he drank.

                             Depression filled his mind; he sought his death,
                             And as he gulped, Tabasco took his breath.

                             The bartender asked if he wanted more.
                              “I think I will have a Bloody Mary,”
                             Came the response.  His eyes now on the floor.
                             Hearing the clunk, he reached for the red drink
                             And asked for the bottle of red delight.

                             Depression filled his mind; he sought his death,
                             And as he gulped, Tabasco took his breath.

                             The mirror reflected bottles and light,
                             Light from a candle flickering this night.
                             The images were dull- hazy in sight,
                             A warm orange glow dancing almost with spite,
                             As his mind drifted to the broken plight.

                             He finished the second and didn’t wait –
                             “Bartender, another Bloody Mary,
                             I would like another, please- just one more
                             And then I will head home, out through the door,
                             Just one more, very hot, just like before.”

                             Depression filled his mind; he sought his death,
                             And as he gulped, Tabasco took his breath.

                             This time it went down in one long-swallow
                             Burning his throat and watering his eyes.
                             Eyes that caught the mirror as he looked down
                             The glow had turned red, he saw something there;
                             It was a woman- ugly, she looked dead.

                             Seeping wounds, oozing with disgust and dread,
                             At the mirror, he stared, wishing he were dead.
                             He lifted himself from the stool and fled
                             Out through the door exactly as he said,
                             Images in the mirror- time for bed.

                             Twenty-four years and three Bloody Marys,
                             He reached his house and opened the front door
                             And in his foyer stood a tall mirror
                             And in the mirror, Bloody Mary was there.
                             “You said that you would have me, I am here.”

                             Depression filled his mind, he sought his death,
                             As he gulped, Bloody Mary took his breath.

                             He vanished- pulled deep into the red glass.
                             The new owners swear that they often hear,
                             “Death’s birth tied by the girth to Mary Worth.”