Mirages

This light, in this one place, drapes old years with new glow

Gathers together flaccid flesh, to cast in tight shadow

In it you will recognize my own youth

In a shape that left behind no remembrance.

Here, in this angle, in this light drape; it is yesterday again.

I must be still. This shade must grow root and ground

This stem like waist, the hair flip, the sinuous lines of my legs –

Until marginal etchings sweep smooth over pleated skin –

And memory’s motes melt in Erebus’s arms.

There held tight, all together, in entombed communion.

It stills. It waits. For you to take notice.

I tire and unconscious shift into the familiar hideous

The edifice splinters and detritus spills over

Floating back to sight; now as speckled incandescence

You don’t notice that either.

You are preoccupied with the other in the mirror

Oblivious to all that just passed by.

—————————————————-

Art Credit: Interior, Strandgade 30’ and ‘Encore et Toujours; Vilhelm Hammershoi

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