These days
I view my reflection with a certain misgiving
as a child
earnestly glaring at a shadow on their wall
waiting to see if it will suddenly arise
sprint across the room
and devour them
These days
the smoke sent up from my smoldering heart
filtering through the branches of my ribs
sooting the leaves
singes my eyes til I squeeze the lids
gasping
These days
the view of the ships from my stoop
and your slippers by the door
sparkles my good eye
