Skeletal hands reaching for land, within a
cottage my reflection stares back at me. Someone
left the lights off...the moon drapes itself over
sheer glass. A silent wish and a death that lasts.
Melted butter in a silvery pool, swirling as it crawls on through.
Worn paper and cigarette ash,
remnants of childhood toys and splintered masks.
Swept under furniture, monotonous
tasks...discarded wrappers and VHS tracks.
Under the grain...under the grain...under...the
grain. Blinking eyes, smirking grin...a
reflection...a witness...a sin. Cut to the left,
scissors and satin skin. Put to the flame, the show
begins. Cigarette burns and warped glass,
reflections that fade into the past.
Published January 6, 2023