Saturday, February 27, 2010

The Newest Widow

Her face
That damned day
Dipped and dwindled,
Fell into her shoulders
And lay still.

All around her
The room grew
To enormous size,
Telescoping
To fill our eyes.

The mirror
Reflected her back,
Its heaves and shudders,
The way every pause
Collapsed to pain.

A small woman
In an impossibly large room,
Shining like a target
In a polished glass surface—
The memory of a moment.

All around her,
A small woman,
The mirror—
Her face.

No comments:

Post a Comment