as seen on a busted television set in poetry

for now we see, as through the glass broken
as through a screen of broken bleeding LCDs
for now we see, as through the screen dimly
or as if through a mirror half-shattered
three-point-five years left of bad luck
a curse, maybe that’s what’s the matter
we’re seen through the prismatic crazing
as if through some fractal of fractures
old flip-phone for eyes only half-known
perceived only in a plural of pieces
sort of like in Corinthians

for now we see things as in a mirror dimly
just a little bit like Legolas and Gimli
until they saw each other face-to-face
back-to-back in their pitched battle
not in the context of mythical race
once in part as some old synecdoche
through that cracked lens and dully
we may someday see all things fully
or so they claimed in Corinthians
some day we might see you for you
me for me not just through a teevee