Today I thought about you.
I felt the heat of your gaze;
a waning sunset
casting shadows on the
dust-speckled mirror of my dresser,
its lacquered frame a spectator
to my growth–
a child, with her mother's lipstick,
turning adulthood into make-believe,
and a fumbling girl-woman
struggling
to dress in early morning sunshine.
My never-ending ritual,
it seems; an
awkward arm caught mid-fabric,
my unorthodox sun salutation
in worship.
Your sun seems
to have set.
Yet I find myself clutching
at shards of broken mirror –
turning edges,
teasing margins,
hoping to find your light
reflected
back at me.
YOU ARE READING
purge - poems and short stories
Poetrypurge (pəːdʒ) - verb: 1. to rid (someone) of an unwanted feeling, memory, or condition. 2. to physically remove (something) completely.
