Poetry Archive

Reflection at Evening

The face

staring at me

before bed

floats

above a body

I don’t recognize

hair parted

on the wrong side

like a quarter moon

in a phase

I’ve not seen before

waning

when I last

remember it

waxing

drawing more shadow

than light

cliffs and craters

deeper than I recall

fine dust coating

lunar features

smudging angles

making lines indistinct

a face like a

weary balloon

hovering

above a string

held tight in my fist

 

A weary hand

lets go and I

watch it rise

through the ceiling

beyond the chimney

on gathering currents

swiftly now, soaring

above the trees

silhouetted in

darkening clouds

reinflating

as it drifts into

the black

trailing

its string

of memories.

 

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